Moloch: Release
by mamfa
Summary: Sixth in the Moloch series, following 'Monsters'. Toby is thrust into an unwanted position of responsibility - for the team, for his life, for his father, and for the innocents caught up in the madness. Will he bend or break?


They aren't mine. They're Marvel's. *Pauses while everyone goes into utter catatonic shock* Except for Toby. Use   
him without permission, and I'll beat you to death with a stunned weasel. Or I shall send you to a living   
imprisonment in the Liefield-verse. Thou hast been warned. And I'm not making any money, period. Quite the   
opposite.   
This is the fifth installment in the Moloch series, and the first one I've ever posted. *pleading look* (Think Kai and   
Logan, or the X-S series, only with more angst). Feedback will result in me fawning all over you, and if my ego gets   
boosted enough, I might even send you the other stories. *g* Yes, it's fan-fic bribery, folks! Flames etc. shall be   
lovingly, exquisitely, lavishly dealt with in a manner which is environmentally safe.  
Archive wiv permission. Or in that terrible Gambit-speak, 'wit' permission.' I apologize in advance. Sheesh.   
Like, on with the show, Scooby!   
  
Moloch: Release  
By mamfa  
  
Time for you and time for me,  
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,  
And for a hundred visions and revisions…  
  
Man, I need a cigarette.  
I remind myself why I'm here. The others are counting on me. Breathe, Toby you idiot. If you pass out, you're not   
going to be an asset at all, and then we won't have any chance of escape. None of the others are in any shape to fight.   
You're on your own.  
Damn…  
I paced the cell, glaring at the apprehensive guard. I'd been locked in here with the unconscious Iceman, the gravely   
wounded Cyclops, and the incapacitated Beast. Those fucking bastards broke both of Hank's knees. If he tries to   
stand, or even move, the pain nearly kills him.  
I wondered where they took the others. My much-diminished hearing detected someone moving about in a holding   
cell down the corridor, and my eyebrows narrowed. Maybe you're not on your own after all.   
I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly. My emotions were running a bit high, but going nuts in here wouldn't do us   
any good. Scott was bleeding badly, despite Hank's enfeebled ministrations, and I couldn't use my voice with this   
inhibitor collar on. And believe me, I tried to get it off. My neck was covered in dried blood. I growled   
disconsolately, and my weedy guard shifted a bit anxiously. I grinned. Needling this guy might just get some of my   
aggression out.  
My grin seemed to faze him. He mustn't be used to seven foot guys with fangs or claws. "What's your name, then?"   
I murmured to the man. My voices seemed to faze him too. He had a half-hearted moustache that he seemed very   
proud of, smoothing it down every couple of seconds in a nervous gesture. I wrapped my hands about the bars,   
giving him the opportunity to squeak a little as the aforementioned claws ran grooves in the metal.   
"Bernie," he said faintly.  
"Hi there, Bernie. I'm Toby." I grinned again. The terrified grimace he gave me could have been interpreted as his   
answering smile. "How ya doin'?"  
"J-just fine," he stammered. "Great, even."  
"I suppose it isn't such a bad job then – watching these cells? Pretty boring, I should think," I commented, whilst   
running my claws over bars. Up and down and up… the screeching was sure getting to him.  
"Y-yeah…"  
"Pay any good?" I inquired solicitously, digging in a little harder.  
"All r-right," he managed, while the skin on the back of his neck tried to creep over the top of his head. Behind me, I   
could hear Hank gritting his teeth. And another silky, metallic sound from down the corridor… I repressed my   
elation. Hah. It had worked.  
"You got any idea why your boss wants us so bad, Bernie?" I asked him in a worried tone, pretending concern.   
Actually, I couldn't care less. I just wanted out. And I was pretty sure Storm would be flipping by now – I hated   
small spaces, but she loathed them.   
Bernie gave me a vindictive look. "Why should I care? S'more than my job's worth to find out," he spat. "All I know   
is, the boss wants you freaks under high security lock and key. There's no way you could get outta here without a   
million alarms going off."  
"Ah, damn," I said, looking downcast. He shuddered as I scraped my claws over the wall. At this rate I'm gonna   
blunt 'em! "Sturdy, yeah. I'd say your boss knows his work."  
"On locking mutants up?" Bernie looked smug. Hah, Houston, we have a bully. A very small and weak bully, who   
rarely has the chance. Being able to gloat over a big lump like me must really be giving him his jollies.  
"On locking anyone up. You don't have to be a mutant to figure that out," I said mildly. "Fortunately, it helps. Hi   
Wolverine, Gambit."  
"Thanks fer distracting him, tiger," grunted Logan as he put the blathering little man to sleep, while Remy got to   
work on the door of another cell.  
"Not a problem. How are our casualties?" I tried to sound unconcerned, but I knew I wasn't very convincing.  
Logan scowled, slicing through the bars of my cell, and I leaned down to have the collar cut away. My hearing and   
smell infinitely sharpened at once. "'Ro's a mess. She can't move for claustrophobia. Betts got hit bad by a plasma   
rifle, and Warren has a wing scorched to the bone. I don't know about the others."  
"Hank's got two broken knees, Bobby's out like a light, and Scott…" I gestured behind me in anger and frustration.   
"How'd they put Rogue down? Or Cable for that matter? Or you?"  
"Numbers," he said shortly. "Nate an' I had the good fortune of running straight into about two hundred of those   
mind-linked troops, an' he couldn't override that implanted compulsion. Rogue stepped into a null-chamber. Wiped   
her powers while they captured her. I think Red was with her."  
"Jean…" It was Scott, groaning in his delirium. Logan bent and took the keys from Bernie's belt, then stepped into   
the cell, listening intently while he cut the collars away from Scott and Hank.   
"Quiet now, Slim. Tobes, you take Hank. I'll meet you outside. Let's get the fuck away from here." He handed me   
the keys, which I stuffed into my jacket pocket.  
I knelt down beside Hank as Logan led our leader out of the cramped confinement. "Okay, Blue. I'm going to try and   
get you outta here, but I gotta figure out how to carry you without hurting those legs of yours. Plus, you weigh a ton,   
if you'll pardon me."  
Beast chuckled feverishly. "355lbs, actually…"  
"You're the doctor, Hank. Tell me how to carry you," I urged. I could hear footsteps from the floor above us.   
"Across your shoulders… Hah…" Hank smiled weakly at the irony. As a child of thirteen, I had often ridden his   
shoulders. I smiled at the memory.  
"Okay… on the count of three. One, two…"  
On three, Hank cried out, then muffled it with his blue fist. I looked down at the still oblivious Bobby, my heart   
racing. He most definitely had internal damage, so they hadn't even bothered with a collar. Water leaked away from   
his frozen form, and the surface of his body shone as his icy temperature slowly rose. I couldn't just leave him   
here…  
"I got it, homme. Now get out o' here!" came an imperious order from behind me, and Gambit scowled at my inertia.   
Well, he should try and carry 355lbs of furry blue scientist and see how fast he can move…  
An alarm broke the air with a nasal whine, irritating the hell out of my over-sensitive ears. Goddamn it! I moved as   
fast as I dared with Hank across my shoulders along the corridor. I could smell my teammates in several. Just get   
Hank out, just get Hank out, you can come back for them… This is insane. How did we get locked down here again?  
A glimmer of light across one window made my spirits lift a little. It led outside…but it was too narrow for either   
Hank or me. I set him down as gently as I could, and examined the frame of the window carefully. It was wired,   
naturally. This was going to hurt.  
I scraped my claws along the wire, severing it and receiving a neuro-synaptic shock which ran through my body   
severing my nerve endings. I clenched my teeth, my nostrils filled with the stench of my singeing hair. No-one, bar   
Logan, could have heard my yelp above the siren, thank god. I panted a little as my body recovered, falling to my   
hands and knees in momentary weakness before gathering the strength to hum a little, speeding up the healing   
process. My voice can act as a catalyst, which stimulates any other powers and increases their efficiency tenfold, or   
as an emotive suggestion, creating illusions and controlling emotions. It's useful. Now, I was using that vocal   
suggestion to boost my healing factor so I could get us the hell out of here.  
After a short lull, I was able to get myself back on my feet, and scraped away at the window frame until I could pull   
it out of its housings. A cascade of gravel and dried cement came with it, making me sneeze violently.  
"Who's there?" A wary voice. I'd been so intent on getting us out, I hadn't realized that the alarm would have   
summoned us some more trouble. Quickly I threw up a vocal illusion, creating the side corridor exactly as I'd found   
it. Now if Hank and I were sufficiently quiet…  
A guard gave us a suspicious glance, searching our corridor, before moving his detachment onwards. They moved   
with that same disjointed single-mindedness which characterized those brainwashed soldiers we had fought earlier. It   
gave me the creeps, to be honest – their eyes never blinking or turning, their movements jerky and deliberate. I   
breathed a silent sigh of relief as the last moved away.  
"Okay, old buddy, let's get you out," I whispered, as I lifted Hank in my arms again, grateful for all that training   
Logan had foisted on me. Without it, I'd have never been able to lift him at all. I pushed him carefully, feet first,   
through the window, and his enormous hands tightened on the broken sill.  
"There's a drop," he croaked. I swore, before launching myself through the window over his head and rolling to take   
the impact.   
He was right, there was a drop of about four meters from the window. After recovering from that fall, I peered   
helplessly at where he hung, his twisted legs useless. "Fuck," I breathed, before jamming my claws into the   
crumbling wall. Mortar shifted under my grip as I climbed my vertical way alongside Hank. "Grab my shoulders," I   
hissed, lodging my claws in further. His weight plus mine would probably snap a few.  
He nodded gingerly, then grabbed hold of one shoulder. I winced. Must have landed on it when I jumped out the   
window. My grip slipped a little as he transferred his other hand, but I clenched my jaw and made my laborious way   
down the sheer wall.  
I collapsed as soon as we made the ground. My muscles were aching – how often does that happen to me? Hank was   
silent as he clung to my back. I think the pain must have been getting to him. I raised my eyes wearily, before setting   
off across the sterile, abandoned grounds. No guards. They must all be inside.   
I slashed my way through the fence. My breath was coming a little harder, damn it. The invisible Blackbird wasn't   
far, I could smell our days-old trail. If I could just get Hank there, he could call for assistance, and I could go fetch   
the others. Hopefully they weren't all as heavy as he was.   
I followed the trail through the scrubby undergrowth. Why had we come here? I couldn't even remember – oh, that's   
right. Some international gang of pirates were shipping mutants to the highest bidder: usually delta or omega class   
rather than alpha or beta. They'd brainwash them, strip them of their personality and history, and auction them on the   
internet or over some unknown communications network, as weapons or slaves. Incredible.   
And so, like a bunch of idiots, we took off in righteous ire to teach them a lesson. Instead, we got the shit kicked out   
of us, and were locked up to be sold as well.   
Well, it hadn't quite all gone their way. I was out now, and I was angry. And I knew that several of my teammates   
were even angrier than I was. God help them if Wolverine loses it.  
I stumbled up into the Blackbird's cockpit, and sat Hank down at the controls. His eyes were unfocused, the lids   
fluttering. I grimaced. I'd have to do something about that pain of his before I went to kick ass on his behalf.   
Rummaging through the medicine cabinet, I found a Shi'ar thing that numbed pain in specific places, so I slathered   
the poor guy's knees in the stuff. He screamed a little, despite me being as gentle as possible. Thankfully, by the time   
I'd forced some water down his throat, his focus was far better, and he seemed even coherent.  
"I'm gonna go get the others, Hank," I said urgently as I pulled open the hatch. "Try to contact Charles, or your   
Avenger buddies. Hell, anyone. See you in a bit."  
He tried to say something, but I only half-heard it. Something about the null chambers.   
  
  
I heard Logan far before I saw him, stumbling over the greenery with Cyclops leaning on him. Scott was delirious,   
mumbling incoherently, and Logan was swearing sulfurously under his breath.   
"Logan?" I asked. He stopped. Beside him, Scott groaned. He was losing blood badly.  
"Tiger? I can't find the trail to the Blackbird…" he trailed off as I pushed through the undergrowth to him.   
"Follow mine," I said brusquely. "Any trouble?"  
Logan held my eyes, and there was pity in them. "Yer not going to like this, Toby. I scented yer father."  
I said nothing for a minute.   
"I reckon these jokers captured him for auction," said Logan quietly. "Yer gonna have to make a decision, kid."  
"Me? Why not you?" I asked harshly. "You could take care of him."  
"If I get involved, I ain't gonna be able to help the others get out," Logan said, laughing a little bitterly. "Reason   
being, I'll be too busy tryin' to tear his damn throat out."  
"So it's up to me, then," I said finally.   
"Sorry, tiger," he said softly. "Yer in charge."  
I didn't answer that. "The trail goes that way. Hopefully Hank's conscious enough to have contacted someone by   
now." Then I turned on my heel and stalked off towards the complex.  
"Good luck," I heard behind me.  
My eyes burned as I pushed through the clinging greenery, restraining myself from taking out my anger on the   
inoffensive plant life. Great. As if this mission wasn't difficult enough, my insane, murderous, genocidal father had   
to be involved.   
I had met him once before. It had been Halloween last year, and rather than kill him, all I did was talk. There was a   
fair bit of ineffectual threatening, though – I really don't know which of us would win. Especially now that I have   
reached my full growth. According to Logan, we're exactly the same. Same hair, same height, same weight, same   
claws, same teeth. Only difference is, I have blue eyes and my voice. And he's the most voracious killer the world   
has ever known.   
Now I deliberately keep my hair cut shorter, and shave my pestilential sideburns so as not to be mistaken for him. It   
still happens, but with the hysteria surrounding the X-Men I suppose it doesn't exactly add much. Besides,   
Sabretooth isn't that famous. Anyone who makes acquaintance with him is damn lucky to get away with an interview   
rather than a disembowelment. The people who mistake me for him are those who have dealings in either the   
spandex or clandestine crime worlds. My father sure is liberal in his 'business' dealings.   
I slashed my way through the fence again, holding tightly onto my emotions. Going berserk wasn't the answer here –   
Storm, Jean, Cable and a few others were still stuck in there, plus all those captured mutants. I deliberately didn't   
think about my father, or what I would do once I'd found him. Would I release him? Would I let him be brainwashed   
(again)? Would I simply rid the world of him? My father.  
Don't think about it!  
I crept along the wall. The guards around the door were milling uneasily, their blank, unseeing eyes swinging around   
the barren courtyard. I narrowed my eyes – there were security cameras around the frame. Damn! I didn't want to   
fight them… they're not in control of what they're doing. I don't seem to have much choice, however. My window is   
too high, and there are no other entrances. God, what I wouldn't do for Wolverine's claws right now!  
Surprise is the key. There are… eleven of them, and one of me. And they have plasma rifles. Not to say that I don't   
have my own advantages. I'll go for incapacitating, but non-fatal injuries. I'll have to… unless…  
I started to sing. I have choral voices, allowing some of them to act independently. When I feel like it, they simply   
make a pretty bass to baritone to tenor chorus. When I have to, they can subvert the emotional responses of anything   
living, plus create illusions or increase powers. Now I used it to override that unnatural compulsion implanted in   
those men and women, telling them to sleep. It's the most insistent lullaby you've ever heard. I sang for ten minutes,   
until I was sure they must be fast asleep, then crept around the corner as quietly as I could. And I can move quietly.  
They weren't asleep!  
"An intruder!" the sergeant shouted. They shuffled forward towards me, their rifles held up, their eyes vacant. I   
swallowed my feeling of disappointment and dropped into a crouch. Obviously I hadn't been able to break that   
brainwashing they'd undergone. Idiot, even a telepath of Cable's strength and skill hadn't managed it. Remember,   
non-fatal, incapacitating…  
The first shot at my torso, and I lunged horizontal across the floor, rolled and kicked the plasma rifle from the   
soldier's hand, before bringing my claws around across the man's ankles. He didn't cry out, only toppled over, his   
eyes still blank. That surprised me, swiping across eyes, punching noses and kicking joints and stomachs. None of   
them made any sound at all, only the sergeant barked orders. The only other noises were the distant, insistent siren,   
and my breath sounding harsh in my own ears.   
I downed another with a jujitsu move and spared a glance at the frantic sergeant. He was the only animated member   
of the entrance guard, encouraging and hollering at the remaining members of his command. I narrowed my eyes, as   
an idea permeated the encompassing red haze which customarily overlaid my berserker rage. If I could take out the   
sergeant, these mindless soldiers would have no-one to take orders from. And maybe I could just save their lives by   
giving them some new ones.   
A woman with empty green eyes took advantage of my momentary lapse to fill my back with lead. I howled, enraged   
before whirling on her and sticking my claws through her shoulders. Her eyes held mine for a second, and I realised   
what I was doing, what I must seem. A rabid animal covered in blood, bent on rending its prey. I shuddered, getting   
myself under control, and my claws pulled free of her flesh with a sickening sucking sound. No time! I wrenched   
myself away from her and pounced for the hysterically screaming sergeant. This was his doing, his and that of his   
allies. He was unmistakably in full mastery of his mind – that put him in charge. And anyone in charge of this kind   
of sick operation deserves to be put down. I snarled as I wrapped my hand around his throat.  
"P-please don't kill me!!" he choked.  
"Why not?" I growled. "You didn't mind ordering these innocent people to their death, or capturing innocent   
mutants for a life of slavery."  
"B-but I didn't think…"  
"No! You didn't!" I roared, thoroughly furious now. My teammates and I had been trapped by this – this ineffectual   
blubbering excuse of a man? I methodically tightened my hand, my claws cutting into his windpipe, then slammed   
him into the wall headfirst. He slumped down the wall, his eyes unfocused and blood burbling in his mouth. I   
watched dispassionately, the remaining guards milling aimlessly behind me. He'd choke to death on his own blood if   
he didn't sit up straight, so I grabbed his shoulders and pinned the material of his uniform to the wall by punching the   
cloth into the mortar with a claw. "Now you listen to me," I growled at the gasping man. "As long as you stay   
upright, you won't die. But you deserve it. Think about the consequences of your actions next time you start a little   
business venture, or I really will come back and kill you. And I'll make sure it's long and complicated, and believe   
me, I have a very vivid imagination."  
He couldn't speak properly, and there was nothing but fright in his eyes. I snorted in disgust and stood, turning back   
to the brainwashed troops still watching me blankly. "I have an order for you," I told them. "Go away from this   
place. I made a hole in the fence over there – use that. Hide in the woods over there until the fighting is over. Once I   
have called you out, come with me. Understood?"  
They said nothing, only nodded slowly and in perfect unison. It was eerie. "Then go."  
And as one, they turned and made for the fence. I exhaled slowly, gave one last disgusted look at the sergeant, and   
slipped into the compound.   
  
  
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;  
Am an attendant lord, one that will do  
To swell the progress, start a scene or two,  
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,  
Deferential, glad to be of use,  
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;  
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;  
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous  
Almost, at times, the Fool.  
  
"Ororo?"  
She whimpered in the darkness, curled up in a tight ball of raw mental anguish on the floor of her cell. It seemed to   
her she could hear her name being called as if through water, or through a wall of solid rock. That thought made her   
eyes clench so hard spots danced on the inside of her eyelid, and her fingers dug crescents into the smooth unmarred   
skin of her shoulders.   
"Ororo, it's me! Come on!"  
She cried out in answer as she felt hands on her back. They picked her up and carried her, curled into a knot, through   
the oppressive, enclosing prison. She imagined the rock pushed in at her, and if it weren't for the law of gravity,   
nothing would stop them in their vindictive attempts to crush her, body and soul. She burrowed closer to the arms   
that held her – large, strong, with long, fine hairs… not Hank or Logan. Then she felt a breeze on her face, and her   
eyes snapped open.  
"Goddess," she breathed, pushing away and falling to the ground outside the door of the complex. Then as her   
nightmare receded, she realized that although she felt the wind, she was not one with it. The understanding hit her   
like a blow, and her fingers reached up to run along an unfamiliar line around her neck.  
"I'll get it off, Ororo," said a gentle voice, and she raised her head to stare at Toby, her eyes filled with her horror.   
"Toby," she said after a pause. "You escaped. You rescued me."  
He bobbed his head in assent. "I had help. I distracted the guard while Logan busted Gambit and himself out. We're   
taking the injured back to the Blackbird before we attempt to free the imprisoned mutants. I thought you could help   
better than some of the others."  
Her mind raced a little, trying to remember. "Ah. You will take this collar from my neck?"  
"I can try," he said, kneeling beside her. "Just hold still…"  
He jammed his claws along the groove, and pulled with all his strength. It bent a little, and he growled in frustration.   
"It won't break," he snarled. "Goddamn!"  
"Do not be discouraged," murmured Ororo. "And do not be concerned with hurting me."  
He looked at her helplessly. "Easy to say," he said finally, before grasping the collar again. A vein stood out on his   
forehead, and his lips drew back in a snarl as he tried to pull the collar apart. Ororo didn't make a sound as a claw   
nicked the nape of her neck, though she could feel a small drop of blood running down her spine.  
Toby's eyes slid shut, a baritone rumble emanating from his throat as his arms heaved against the ring around   
Storm's neck. She felt the metal strain, and suppressed her exultation. Thank the Goddess…with an enormous yank,   
Toby's claws sliced straight through the collar and its pieces fell with an inoffensive clatter to the rocky ground.  
She raised her hand to her neck slowly, and then the sensation of being larger and more fulfilled, controlled and   
completed returned with gratifying clarity. She gave a small exhalation of relief, and Toby raised his drooping head   
to smile at her.  
"Better?" he asked her with a wry, weary grin.  
"Indeed," she said, not bothering to hide her euphoria. "Thank you, Toby."  
"No sweat – actually I tell a lie," he said, settling into a crouch and wiping his admittedly sweaty forehead. "Are you   
okay to go back in?"  
Her psyche balked at the notion, but she lifted her chin in her most imperious way. "Yes. Tell me, what is our   
status?"  
"Let's see… I think 'catastrophic' might just suit," he said without any trace of irony. "Hank, Scott and Bobby are   
out for the count. So, I think, are Betsy and Warren. Rogue's being kept in a null-chamber, and I don't know where   
Jean is. And Cable, Jubilee and Kurt are still stuck somewhere…"  
"I see." Ororo was astounded and dismayed. 'Catastrophic' did indeed fit the bill.   
"…and to top the entire farce off, my dear beloved father is being held captive," his tone darkened, and there was   
confusion in his bright blue eyes. Storm felt her jaw slacken.   
"By the Bright Lady…" she murmured. "Sabretooth."  
He shook his head and shoulders with a catlike ferocity, and stood, holding out his hand. "We're going to have to   
hurry. Archangel was scorched to the bone on one wing – he needs medical attention. And Betsy got hit by a plasma   
rifle. The other criticals are out of the building."  
She took his hand and made it shakily to her feet. "So retrieving Betsy and Warren is top priority. I will go after   
Betsy – she will be easier for me to carry."  
He nodded brusquely, and Ororo could see the confusion still warring in him, and she felt her heart go out to him.   
Sometimes, what with his height, strength, skill and intelligence, it was so easy to forget exactly how young Toby   
was. And how the issue of his father divided him unlike any other X-Man.   
She led the way back into the complex. The walls pressed in at her again, but she tightened her jaw and clamped   
down on her screaming claustrophobia. She could not hear a sound above the siren, but the change in air pressure   
reminded her that Toby was still behind her. She stopped at a cross section of the tunnel, and saw a large shadow   
detach itself from the corridor behind her as Toby signaled towards the left hand branch. She followed him down the   
twisting hallways, her eyes darting for any movement. He stopped quickly.  
"This way," he mouthed, gesturing to a darkened offshoot. They huddled in the meagre cover, their glinting eyes the   
only brightness amongst the dark. A patrol marched lifelessly past them, their dead, unfocused eyes neither wavering   
this way or that. Ororo unconsciously let out the breath she had been holding in while they moved away, and they   
slipped out behind the unseeing patrol, darting soundlessly along the corridors.   
As they entered the cell block, Toby's head snapped up. "Warren's not here," he said in a low voice. "Logan's gotten   
him out, not five minutes ago."  
Ororo nodded. "And Psylocke?"  
Toby's eyes shut for an instant. "Over here," he murmured, moving soundlessly for a cell door. A crumpled heap   
could be seen in a corner. "Betsy?"  
It didn't move. Toby swore under his breath, and despite herself, Ororo shot him a reproving glance. She'd watched   
him grow up after all. "Sorry," he said, a corner of his mouth curling. "Let's get her out."  
She crouched gracefully and examined the lock. "I could pick this in about twenty minutes," she muttered. A   
metallic tinkle behind her made her head whip around, and she stared in astonishment as Toby reached past her,   
fitted a key to the lock and opened the door.   
"Logan left me the keys," he explained, the half-smile now a grin. "I'd almost forgotten about them."  
She shook her head, and moved over to the figure in the corner of the cell. "Betsy?"  
A small sound, half-plea, half-warning.   
"What's wrong with her?" asked Toby in a hoarse whisper.  
"I do not know," answered Storm. "Betsy, it is I, Ororo. Come, we will get you out of here." She made to put her   
arms around the other woman's shoulders, but Betsy hissed, and her head snapped up. "Great Goddess!"  
Three quarters of Elizabeth Braddock's exquisite features were red, raw and disfigured. One eye wept blood, the   
other was full of angry tears. "Go away, Ororo!" she snarled. "Leave me here! I don't want…" then her voice broke,   
and she started sobbing.  
Toby knelt next to her. "Betts?"  
"I said FUCK OFF!"  
"No can do, I'm afraid," he said offhandedly. "Seems you got a nasty plasma burn there. I could heal that for you,   
you know. But only if we make a deal."  
Her eyes fastened disbelieving on him. "A.. a deal?!"  
"Yeah." He grinned. "I fix your face, you agree to get the hell out of this dump. I think you get the best of the   
bargain."  
"But," Storm asked in furious exasperation, "how do you propose to heal her face?"  
He rocked back on his toes to face her. "I've done it before, remember, my very first mission. I can increase any   
power with my voice. ANYTHING. Not just mutant powers, either, though they're easier. I can increase gravity, or   
volume, or the healing process." His eyes slid back to Betsy. "It takes a lot longer without a healing factor,   
however."  
She swallowed. "How long?"  
He gave a wry smile. "About an hour. An hour we don't have."  
She held his gaze. "I will hold you to our deal," she said finally.  
"I wouldn't have it any other way," he replied gently. "Storm, can you get her out of here? I'm going to find Rogue."  
Ororo nodded. "Good luck, my young friend."  
He stretched to his feet without a sound, and slunk from the cell. Betsy shook her maimed head in disbelief. "He   
takes to leadership like a duck to water."  
Ororo's eyes were troubled as she helped Psylocke to stand. "His father is here, you know."  
"I know." Betsy's good eye was hard as agate. "I heard Remy telling Cable, when he got him out."  
"Nathan is out? Good." Then there were now five – Storm, Toby, Logan, Gambit and Cable, who were able to   
continue this frantic mission. That made Ororo feel a little more confident, as she helped Betsy limp through the   
oppressive hallways.   
  
  
Do I dare  
Disturb the universe?  
In a minute there is time  
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.  
  
What had Logan said? Rogue was in a null-chamber. Fantastic. She'd be wild with anger or pain, going out of her   
mind. Not to mention the fact that whoever had her captive had her completely at their mercy. I just hoped they   
hadn't done anything to her.   
I rounded a corner, keeping to the shadows. There were the null-chambers. And abruptly, I could smell my father.   
Hear him too, growling and rebounding off the walls. Jesus. I didn't want to think about how long he'd been keeping   
that up.   
I purposely bypassed that door. Not yet. Rogue first. I put my ear up against the keyhole of the next door, listening as   
intently as I could. Sure enough, there were whimpers, and Rogue's scent seeped through. Plus the smell of metal   
and blood. Oh shit.  
I fumbled with the keys and fitted one to the lock. No luck. Another? Nope, try again. Next? Ah… the door swung   
open silently, and I slunk into the semi-lit room. There was a machine in the centre – that would have been the metal   
stench, and androids were manning it, their mechanics whirring. Then I saw Rogue. She was naked, her body   
streaked with blood as they forced her into that machine. With a horrifying insight, I realized that this was the   
process used to eradicate the subjects' personality and brainwash them into obedience. I could feel the savage fury   
building in my stomach. Rogue was one of my best friends, and one of the only people who trusted me. And I'll be a   
tabby cat before I let this happen to her.  
My anger was registering as a growl, and I saw Rogue's terrified, helpless eyes widen as she looked over in my   
direction. The automatons, of course, didn't hear a thing, and it was a shame they couldn't feel my claws rending   
through their spindly metal limbs and blinking power supplies. I rushed in like the animal I thought my father to be,   
tearing and ripping and biting and snarling. The rage had control. The red film over my eyes urged me onwards,   
every sense, every nerve striving for that ultimate kill.   
No!  
I ripped the head off another and leapt onto the machine, tearing indiscriminately at wires and connections. I barely   
registered my own voice slavering like a bear, like a beast, like a tiger.  
NO!  
"No!" I tore myself from the grip of the rage, and slumped against the side of the machine, panting. "No. I'm not an   
animal. I won't be."  
"S-sugah?"  
"Rogue?" I raised my still-disoriented head and scanned the room for her. What I saw shocked me. It was metallic   
carnage, parts of machine, robots, wires and scrap metal junk all over the floor. Rogue was staring at me. "I-I'm   
sorry you had to see that, Rogue," I said weakly. Christ, I need a cigarette…  
"It's okay, tiger," she said softly. "Thanks fer comin' t' get me. You weren't a moment too soon."  
I smiled wryly. 'What if the robots had been people?' my conscience screamed at me. I closed my eyes against it,   
then shook my head and stood, looking into her sea-green eyes. "Okay, this is what's going on," I said. "Hank,   
Bobby, Scott, Warren and Betsy are all out of action, and they're all in the Blackbird by now. Storm, Gambit, Cable,   
Wolverine and I are conducting the rescue and salvage. Hank's trying to contact help. Here," I threw her my shirt   
and jacket, which she wrapped around herself. It was laughably too large for her. "I think Jubilee and Jean are the   
only X-Men who haven't been rescued, and I'm pretty sure Logan and Cable will take care of that. Could you start   
rescuing those captured mutants now? Are you up to it?"  
She nodded, her eyes hard. "Ah want some payback, sugah. How about you?"  
I sighed. "Listen."  
Even inside the null-chamber, the sounds of growling and thumping were audible from the next. "Who…?" Rogue   
asked, a dreadful suspicion in her face.  
I nodded. "Dear old Daddy mine," I spat. "Logan's generously left me in charge, because Storm's out of it with   
claustrophobia and this terrain suits my mutation. So the decision of my father is purely up to me. Convenient, isn't   
it?"  
She took a step towards me, her eyes hesitant, then laid a hand on my arm. I smiled bitterly.   
"Null-chamber's good fer one thing, Tobes," she said softly, before hugging me tightly. I wrapped my bare arms   
around her, feeling her shake. She seemed to revel in the skin-on-skin contact, pressing her face against my chest and   
pressing her hands against my back. Then she pulled my head down and kissed me on the forehead, her eyes   
luminous. "Just savin' up, sugah," she said sadly, before turning and walking out the door.   
I watched her go. Rogue was one of my best friends at the mansion, one of the few people who had befriended me no   
matter my parentage or my mutation. Then a particularly loud thump jerked me back into the moment, and my lips   
drew back into an unconscious snarl. Hah. Here, kitty, kitty, kitty…  
Moving silently, I made my way over to the door which imprisoned my father. The walls were vibrating somewhat   
with the force of his anger, dust shaking from the ceiling like a grey mist. I steeled myself. This, no matter what   
decision I made, was not necessarily going to be easy or fun. Would I fight my father for the first time? (Would I   
lose?) Would I simply set him free, to wreak yet more murder on an innocent population?   
Don't think about it!  
I fitted a key to the lock, my heart palpitating so fast I felt it would jump out of my chest. The crashes inside the   
room abruptly stopped, but the growls did not. Holy shit.   
I considered, before turning the key. My father may not attack me, but without his sense of smell, he would not know   
that it was me. Best to warn him then. "Dad?"  
The growls grew sparser.  
"It's Toby. Get a hold of yourself before I unlock this door."  
"Hey kid."  
My god, my god, my god.  
"You gonna let me out or what?"  
"Depends on if you're going to rip me apart or not," I replied.  
A bass chuckle. "Ain't that dumb, tiger. Now, do yer mind? I'm a bit cut up in here."  
"It doesn't surprise me." I turned the key, and the door, like Rogue's, swung inwards silently. I hesitated, before   
entering.  
My father was wearing a collar, attached to a leash which anchored him to the roof. He was a mess. Red rivulets   
seeped from under the collar, and his arms were raw from chafing at the cuffs which bound him. The leash gave him   
just enough leverage to slam against the walls, but if he pulled away too long, he would choke himself to death. It   
was a simple and ingenious method of slowly killing an angry and indefatigable man. And from the exhaustion in my   
father's face, it had almost worked.  
"You've grown," was all he said to me.  
I raised an eyebrow. We were exactly the same height: seven feet. "I know. You'd be surprised how many people   
have noticed."  
Creed laughed, then coughed. "You wanna get me outta this?"  
"Are you going to behave yourself?" I asked suspiciously. "I know you won't kill me, but you could tear the living   
shit out of my friends."  
"Hunh. Ain't I the one supposed to ask you to behave?" he wheezed, but he was grinning. Lord, he looks so much   
like me.  
"We've never been the type to play happy families," I said. "Well?"  
"Well what?"  
"Are you going to kill us or help us?"  
A sigh. "I'll kill the first motherfucker I see who put me into this rig. After that, I'll help yer."  
I dropped to a crouch. "Good enough for me. Let's see now…"   
He extended his hands. His claws had cut deep gouges in his own arms as he tried to pull them off. If I didn't get him   
out soon, he'd bleed to death. Again I was struck by the incredible dichotomy I faced with my father. I either hated   
him with a vitriolic bile, or (very reluctantly) liked him as the only person who actually understood. "Strange," I said   
aloud.  
"What?"  
"These cuffs. They're one solid piece. No hinges. They must have been forged onto you. Were you unconscious for   
any amount of time?"  
He scowled. "Yeah. After they caught me, I blacked out from loss of blood an' multiple gunshot wounds. When I   
woke up I was here."  
I scratched my head. "Shit. No hinges, no key, no opening. I'm going to either have to break them or your hands."  
He regarded me with an unfathomable look. "I know. What you think I been tryin' ta do?"  
A wave of nausea washed over me. He'd been trying to break his own hands, just to get out. "Okay, hold still," I   
muttered, and jammed my claws as far as they would go into the metal of the left cuff. I heard him grunt, but he   
didn't move. Of course, to be an espionage agent, you need some sort of control, I reminded myself. Still, control   
was not what my father was known for.   
I could feel striations in the metal. It was weakening, but I needed leverage. I could feel my teeth baring again, and   
wondered erratically how much I mirrored him now. My claws were digging a groove in the metal, and it was   
warping, but not breaking. One of his claws raked across my forearm, raising a thin line of blood.  
As if blood were the catalyst, the cuff broke. The pieces fell with a clatter, and his hands jerked apart reflexively. I   
could hear him growling in satisfaction.   
I stood, and met his eyes. It seemed, in that enigmatic yellow, there was a glint of something that might have been   
pride. "Thanks, tiger," he said.  
I nodded, then looked up at the leash. "I reckon it'd be easier to cut the leash than the collar," I murmured.  
He shook his head. "The collar's Genoshan crap. They weren't takin' any chances with me," he added in disgust. I   
exhaled in frustration, and wiped the perspiration from my forehead.  
"I've already taken one of these off today, from Storm, so theoretically, this should be easier," I said to myself.  
"Storm got caught too?" He seemed genuinely surprised. I nodded wearily.  
"We all did. Gambit, Wolverine and I led the escape. That's what the siren is about." I snarled in disgust. "They've   
left me in charge. Me! I'm the youngest and most unstable of the lot!"  
He made a noncommittal noise, but that glint was in his eyes once more. It bemused me a little – that my father   
would be proud of me when I try to represent everything he is not. I shrugged and hooked the collar with a claw. He   
tilted his head the other way, and I could see him suppressing a wince.   
"There's a computer card on this side," I said, frowning. "That should make it weaker than the other. I'll try to jam   
the electronics."  
"But you'll get shocked," he said, surprised.   
I regarded him stoically. "But at the moment, I can survive it. You can't. If you did this in the state you're in, you'd   
most probably black out, and then choke."  
"Yer not goin' ta heal in here," he protested. "Maybe you should just cut the leash."  
"Why are you arguing about it now?" I exploded. "You've never been concerned about me before, remember?"  
He was silent for a pause. "I… I know. Fuck – I guess I… Nah. Go on then. Do what you have to."  
I shook my head in disbelief, then reached up. I noticed he closed his eyes.  
I cut the leash.  
He slumped to floor, his eyes wide. I grabbed him under the arms and dragged him outside the null-chamber, where I   
stopped, propping him up against the corridor wall. Abruptly I could feel my voice gaining power again, like a   
roiling energy stored in my chest, and grinned. "Thank fuck…"  
He raised his head to stare at me. "Yer a weird kid, you know that?" he said finally.  
"It's a family trait," I replied, trying to hide my grin and failing miserably. "Let's get that collar off you."  
"Good idea." He offered his neck again, and I was suddenly struck by exactly how much trust he was placing in me.   
If this scenario had been offered to anyone else in the team, they would have slit his throat and let him bleed to death   
without his healing factor. I shook my head to clear my thoughts, and grasped the computer wiring thoughtfully.   
"Okay, whatever you do," I told him tersely. "Don't touch me or you'll get shocked too."  
Then I ran my claws through the circuitry. The pent-up electricity ran up my arms, and I could feel my skin burning.   
I ground my teeth, determined not to make any noise that would bring investigation. Then I twisted my hands   
sharply, and the claws on my thumbs ran straight through the metal to stop millimeters from my father's throat. With   
an audible crack, the collar snapped, and I fell back against the wall with a grunt as my healing factor did its thing.  
His eyes fluttered shut as his wounds closed. "Ah…"  
I raised my head wearily. "Better?"  
"Much." Then his eyes opened again, his expression curious. "How come they didn't stick a collar on you?"  
"Oh, they did," I laughed sardonically. "I killed four of them coming in here. They pumped me full of some strange   
drug, and stuck me in a cell with the most wounded of my teammates. I suppose they thought I would be no more   
trouble."  
His eyebrow raised. "Their mistake. How'd you get it off?"  
"Logan."  
"Hah, yes." His eyes were now sourly amused, with a touch of malicious self-hatred. "Y'know, that adamantium was   
mine once."  
"He told me. Said Apocalypse was using you." I shifted uneasily. Some of my nerve endings were still inflamed, and   
hurt like hell with the heat turned up.   
"Just about everybody's used me fer somethin'," he mused. "Apocalypse, Sinister, Mystique, Weapon X, even our   
lovin' government. Hunh. That there's some résumé."  
I said nothing. I found I really didn't want to fight him, to my incredulity, so I kept my opinions to myself while he   
healed. Then my head jerked up at the same moment his did.  
"Someone's comin'," he snarled. I shook my head, narrowing my eyes.  
"Listen for the footsteps. That's Cable's stride. He's back in the complex."  
"Ah, fuck. Anyone but Cable," he growled. I shot him a sarcastic look.  
"Anyone?"  
"Okay, anyone but Cable or the runt," he amended, then, astonishingly, he grinned.  
  
  
For I have known them all already, known them all –   
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,  
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;  
I know the voices dying with a dying fall  
Beneath the music from a farther room.  
So how should I presume?  
  
Nathan Dayspring Summers was not a happy man.  
Some idiot had put a collar on him. Naturally, the TO virus took advantage of that, spiraling out of control until   
Gambit had turned up to hot-wire the damn collar. It had taken a massive effort to contain the virus again, forcing it   
back into its usual boundaries. That sort of thing put him in a foul mood.   
He'd found Kurt. The German-born X-Man had been trying for his own escape, making his way through the vents,   
losing a lot of blood as he went. Nate had sensed his pain-soaked thoughts, and carried him to the Blackbird using his   
telekinesis. It was just as well, really – his body was still recuperating from the attack of the TO virus.   
Now he strode along the corridors in a filthy humour, looking for Jean. He gripped his psimitar in one hand, his   
second-favourite gun in the other. There was no trace of Jean's thoughts, and no sense of where she was, and it was   
adding frustration to anger and simmering animosity.   
He stopped, stock-still in shock. He could sense two thought patterns ahead, and immediately recognized them. He   
hissed through his teeth, bringing his gun up, looking with more than eyes into the darkness.   
"Hey, Nathan," said Toby, stepping out from a shadow. "C'mon, he knows you're there," he added to the darkness.  
Cable gave the young man an incredulous look. "Have you flonqing lost your mind?"  
"You tell me, mister telepath," replied Toby with ironic humour. His tone was tense and strained.  
"You let him out?" Cable composed himself with an enormous effort of willpower. "May I ask why?" he said   
between gritted teeth.  
A bass chuckle greeted him from the shadows. "You wanna stop acting like I ain't here, Summers?"  
"Not particularly," retorted Cable.   
Toby sighed. "He's going to help us rescue those captured mutants. We're way below strength. We need him."  
"Really." Nathan's tone was flatly disbelieving. "How do you know he's going to help us?"  
"I promised," came the whisper from the darkness.   
"You usually aren't the kind to honour a promise, Creed!" shouted Cable, now thoroughly angry. Toby resisted the   
urge to roll his eyes.  
"You mind keeping it down?" he said pointedly. "We aren't alone in here, you know."  
"You don't believe me?" asked Sabretooth, his voice an amused rumble.   
"Oath, what do you think?" was the rejoinder, dripping with sarcasm.  
Creed chuckled. "Read my mind, then."  
Nathan narrowed his eyes. "Okay, Creed. I'll read your mind."   
He focused on the thought waves which emanated from the killer in the shadows, before plunging into the stream of   
consciousness. When free of the killing rage, Creed's thoughts were remarkably calm, tinged with a malicious   
humour and self-irony. He found the man's self behind a cluster of condemned memories, drinking the astral version   
of a beer.  
"Glad you could make it," was his only greeting. "Get yerself a brew."  
Cable was astounded. This was the sort of scenario you would expect from Logan, but… then again, Logan and   
Creed had more in common than either of them wished to acknowledge. It was why they couldn't leave each other   
alone – it was the equivalent of picking a scab.   
"Well?" said Creed abruptly. "You wanted to know why I'm gonna help you, right?"  
"I wanted to know if you were really going to help us at all," said Cable dryly. "But close enough."  
Creed laughed. "Yeah, I am."  
"All right then, why?"  
He looked somber for a moment. "I reckon yer father would understand. You turned up outta nowhere, an' no-one   
could really get why Cyclops trusted you…"  
Cable frowned. "You're going to help us for Toby?"  
"I s'pose." The blond giant leaned back reflexively. "I'm doin' it cos he asked me. An' despite everythin' that's   
happened, I'm still his father."  
"A paternal instinct, Sabretooth? I'm shocked," said Nathan, raising an eyebrow. "How do I know we can trust   
you?"  
"You can't. He can. There's a difference." Creed threw his head back and drained the rest of the can. "But I'm gonna   
be trustworthy fer one night, just fer him. I reckon I owe him that much."  
Nathan was silent for a while. Creed tilted his head, smiling faintly. "You don't believe me?"  
"Why do you feel you owe him?" asked Nathan finally. "He's survived without you up until now, hasn't he?"  
"That's the whole point. I met him last year, y'know. At Halloween. He told me that he'd been living with my sins   
hangin' over his head, that you lot didn't trust him because o' me. It got me ta thinkin'. I left or raped his mother,   
whoever she was, an' she left him in an orphanage, where he was nearly killed. An' when he got out to you, no-one   
felt safe with him because o' his father, because o' me. I owe him. Because o' me, he ain't ever gonna have an   
ordinary life."  
"I didn't think you even cared," retorted Cable. Inside, his conscience was having a field day. It's true, you treated   
that kid like shit because of Creed… His thoughts flew back to the image of a scarred, skinny, diminutive boy with a   
flyaway mop of blonde hair and iridescent blue eyes, clenching his hands so hard that fledgling claws pierced   
through his palms, trying with a fierce determination not to cry.   
Another laugh, this one faintly self-deprecating. "I know. I don't know why I do, 'cept that he's the only person who   
remotely understands me. He's so much like me, more than anyone I've ever known, including the runt. He's what I   
could 'o been, if I hadn't liked the blood so much." He threw the empty can away, and stretched languidly. "Now   
let's go."  
"I'm still not sure I believe you…" grumbled Nathan. Creed scowled.  
"An' I really don't care if ya do or not. He does, an' that's good enough fer me. Now get the fuck outta my head."  
"Gladly," snapped Cable, withdrawing his psionic image and opening his eyes. Toby was looking at him quizzically,   
an unspoken question in his iridescent blue eyes.  
"Well?" he asked.  
"I still don't trust him, but as you say, we're under strength," conceded Cable with a growl. "Don't expect me to like   
it."  
There was a low laugh from Creed at that. Toby bit his lower lip in thought, unconsciously (or perhaps not)   
displaying his fangs to best advantage. "Who's left in the building?" he asked, his brow furrowed.  
"Jubilee and Jean," said Cable, crossing his arms. His scowl was deepening by the second. "What the flonq are you   
planning, boy?"  
"Logan would be looking for Jubilee," said Toby, ignoring that query. "I assume you were looking for Jean?" Nathan   
nodded slowly. "Then we'll start looking for those other mutants. Contact Gambit or Storm, tell them we may need   
them. Someone who can pick locks may be useful."  
"Phoenix is in the laboratory," said Sabretooth suddenly. "I heard her when they brought her in."  
Nathan swore. "Where's the laboratory?" he demanded harshly.  
Creed leered. "Past the null chambers, an' towards the military barracks. Next to the containment units."  
"Hah," said Toby softly. "The containment shipping units, yes?"  
"Yeah. You want me ta lead the way?"  
"Go for it."  
"Toby, are you insane?" hissed Cable as Creed slunk from his shadow and crept down the hall.   
"Probably," retorted Toby. "But then, mad people never know, do they? This is the fastest way of getting the mission   
done without losing anyone. He's only going to kill one person, and it'll be one of those who stuck him in a null-  
chamber. So don't get your spandex in a twist, Nate."  
Cable glowered ferociously at him, but followed Victor Creed without another word.  
  
  
Well, that went better than I expected.   
At least, neither of them tried to tear the other's throat out. Still, that was some of the fastest talking I've had to do in   
my life. Holding a tentative truce together between Sabretooth and Cable isn't exactly my idea of the Geneva   
Accords, though. I doubt even Pietro could talk that fast.  
We crept along the corridor after my genocidal excuse for a father. The rage was practically pouring off Cable in   
waves. Probably not used to being told what to do by an untrustworthy infant like me. I probably just reinforced all   
those misgivings the team has about me. Fuck. Oh well, you can't have everything you wish for. Right now, I'd   
settle for world peace, a cigarette, and out of this mess. Out of this mess will have to do, and for that, we need   
Sabretooth.  
On the other hand, world peace seems more readily attainable.   
Creed stopped suddenly, and Cable almost ran into him. I extended my senses as far as they would, my eyes wide.   
There were people ahead, people surrounded by a miasma of medicinal smells, and under that, the familiar scent of   
Jean.  
Cable, I thought as loudly as I could. Jean's somewhere ahead of us, and she's surrounded by… seven people.   
There's a strong medical smell – I think they've started some bizarre operation.  
Cable's expression grew stony.   
Done. I turned to Creed, moving silently. "You and I are taking out the others," I whispered at a level only he could   
hear. "Cable's going to get Jean. Don't get creative on me."  
He flashed me a feral grin, before we moved slowly up the corridor for the lighted doorway of the laboratory. The   
anger was now emanating off Cable, and his organic eye was bleak as it flashed golden light. I held up a claw.  
We waited. I could smell Jean's confusion.  
"Now!" I roared, and we moved into the room, Cable shooting a path. Creed's snarls were echoing in my ears. As I   
rendered a guard unconscious, I took stock of the situation. Jean was strapped to an operating table, some sort of   
electrolyte jelly slathered on her temples. Electrodes ran from her head to a machine like that in Rogue's null-  
chamber, and a collar encircled her neck. Her green eyes were wide in disbelief as she recognized her rescuers.  
"That one!" growled Creed, snarling savagely at a man with thick glasses and one arm ending in a hook. "Andre!"  
Andre? I wondered. "What?" I yelled over the carnage.  
"Him! He's mine!" he thundered back, leaping for the man. "He's from Weapon X!"  
"Holy shit!" I was stunned. A blank-faced guard took advantage of my astonishment to shoot me in the thigh. "Fuck!   
That stung!" I hissed, and ran my claws through his shoulder. He screamed, falling, and I watched with guilty   
satisfaction. "Serves you right," I muttered. The bullet was lodged in my thigh against the bone. I'd have to operate   
sooner or later (preferably sooner), which basically meant tearing my own leg apart and pulling it out. It was even   
worse when the bullet was hard to find and the wounds kept closing.   
"Jean?" said Cable softly. "Redd?"  
"Could you get me out of this, Nathan?" she asked weakly, but loaded with defiance. He smiled grimly, and   
shattered her restraints with his teke, pulling off the electrodes. She wiped at her temples in disgust. "Yuck. I hate   
electrolyte gel."  
"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly.  
"I'll be fine, Nathan," she reassured him, then promptly collapsed. Creed finished off the last soldier and dropped to   
a crouch, his breath forced.   
"Guess she ain't so okay," he commented. Cable glared at him.  
"I have to get this collar off," he muttered. I involuntarily gave a bark of laughter.  
"Allow me," I said. "I've had some practice."  
He reluctantly handed me Jean's limp body, which I laid carefully on the ground. It was strange how much smaller   
she seemed, without the fire of her personality. I wrinkled my nose at the smell of the gel, and gripped the collar   
experimentally. "Here we go again," I murmured.  
"Do you want to hurry up?" said Cable acidly.  
"Leave the boy alone," said Creed, curiously defensive. "Or do it yerself an' end up runnin' the collar straight   
through her neck."  
Amazingly, Cable subsided. My arms were burning from the strain of pulling the metal apart, digging into the   
electronics. Abruptly, they severed the wires and the shock once again ran through my body. Gritting my teeth, I   
twisted my thumb-claw, and the collar dented and broke. I could feel electricity still buzzing in my forearms and   
fingers as I slumped to the floor.  
"Scott…" moaned Jean. I realized the psionic link would be re-established, and closed my eyes. Scott was in the   
Blackbird's infirmary, bleeding from a dozen serious wounds. Cable immediately returned to her side. Creed rolled   
his eyes at me, and I smiled.  
"Yer nerves healed yet, tiger?" he asked me.  
"Not quite," I answered, wincing. "Nerves are a little more tricky than muscle tissue, I've found."  
He snorted. "Ain't that the truth. Try brain matter, it's even more fun."  
Cable grimaced. "Oath, you two talking shop is the most gruesome thing I've ever heard."  
Creed just grinned at him.   
"Nate?" asked Jean in a somewhat stronger voice.  
"Yes?"  
"Why is Sabretooth fighting with us?"  
Cable glowered. "Because Toby convinced him to, apparently."  
Creed raised an eyebrow at me, and I shrugged. "Oh. That's… useful," she said, wincing as she tried to sit up. "I   
can't reach Scott. What's the status?"  
"Bad. Half the team's injured. You're the last rescue though, which is a note on the upside, but that's assuming   
Logan's found Jubilee," said Cable in a blunt tone. "We haven't made any progress on releasing the mutants for   
auction yet. Were you two going to start on that anytime soon?" he asked Sabretooth and I pointedly.  
I crossed my arms. "Just as soon as my nerve endings heal up, yes."  
At that, Cable seemed a little mollified. "Oh. Good. C'mon Redd, I'll get you out of here." He bent down and easily   
lifted Phoenix in his arms, before regarding us with an unreadable look. "I'll see if I can reach Gambit or Storm for   
you," he said.  
I inclined my head. "I'd appreciate it. Better get her out."  
He nodded, and there was a hint of respect in his organic eye, before he turned on his heel and strode off. Creed   
dropped to his haunches again and grinned. "Finally got rid o' the brick wall."  
I flexed my arms experimentally, then shifted uncomfortably as the bullet lodged in my thigh rasped against bone.   
"He isn't usually that bad. Generally, he's much worse."  
He eyed my leg knowingly. "You gonna take care o' that?"  
"Well, I'm not letting you do it," I retorted, slitting a line along the muscle and prying it apart. He watched   
dispassionately as I expertly removed the bullet, gritting my teeth as my flesh tried to knit together around my claws.   
Then I sang slightly, and the skin closed over the seeping hole. He didn't say anything, and I couldn't until my   
breathing slowed down. After a few minutes, I felt I could unclench my jaw. Naturally, my leg felt fine. "Okay, I   
seem to be all stitched up. Let's go."  
"Go where? You know where they're keepin' all these mutants then?"  
"I got a hunch." I got to my feet and turned to my father. "I think they've been packed for shipment."  
Creed's eyes widened. "The containment units. Fuckin' hell."  
I nodded. "That's assuming they're self-sufficient hibernation pods. That would explain why I can't trace their   
scents. It's the only way they could keep them contained without at least one breaking conditioning and wreaking   
havoc."  
"Revenge of the pod people," he said slyly, and I snorted.  
"Yeah right. What was that about Weapon X before?"  
He looked somber for a while. "The guy who was runnin' the program – the professor. He was known as 'Andre' in   
a few scenarios which they plugged straight into our brains. The squaw caught up with him an' pulled his plug. That   
guy – almost exactly the same. Even had a similar scent."  
I raised an eyebrow. "The hook? Your doing?"  
He grinned. "Nah. That was the runt. Bastard beat me to him."  
Shaking my head, I tried to concentrate on the pertinent. "All right, back to it. If they're in the containment units,   
how do we get them out?"  
"Search me," he shrugged. "I'm a spontaneous kinda guy."  
"Thanks," I said sourly, and he chuckled.  
  
  
I am no prophet – and here's no great matter;  
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,  
And I have seen the Eternal Footman hold my coat and snicker,  
And in short, I was afraid.  
  
Gambit crawled through the air ducts. It was, he reflected, a miserable way to infiltrate a building, but at least here he   
had very little chance of being discovered. It was very dark, the inky velvet blackness pressing in on him like a   
burglar's best friend, and it made him grin fiercely. The dark was an old friend. Remembrances of better days.  
His trenchcoat was a problem. It kept getting tangled in his legs. There was no way in hell he would relinquish it,   
however – his tanned leather duster was the mark of the New Orleans Thieves. So he struggled with it and pressed   
on, swearing soundlessly under his breath in French.  
The voice was so near and so loud in the darkness, it almost made him jump. "Hey, Cajun."  
He blinked. "Logan?"  
"Yeah. What the fuck are ya doin' in the ducts?"  
Remy considered. What the fuck was he doing in the ducts? "Crawling," he answered eventually. "I t'ink dis way I   
don' get discovered too easily, oui?"  
Logan laughed coarsely. "No-one's around. They all went off to check out the alarms an' stare at the empty prison   
cells."  
Remy cursed again. Where had all his luck gone? "Den you mind gettin' me outta here, mon ami?" he asked acidly,   
as Logan continued to chuckle.  
Snikt! "Sure. Hold still." Three burnished blades erupted through the duct's floor before his face, and dragged   
through it as easily as paper. Remy gritted his teeth and overruled his fine-tuned reaction. Logan opened a hole large   
enough for the Cajun to slip through, and Remy hoisted himself down with practiced grace, landing in a crouch.  
"T'anks," he said.   
"Thank me later. Fer now, help me with Jubes."  
"Jubilee? Is she all right?" Remy peered to where Logan was, his exotic eyes sharper than a cat's in the enveloping   
darkness. Wolverine was bending over a limp form on the floor, his expression wavering from furious to anxious. If   
the situation were not so grave, Remy would have laughed.  
"It's not good," said Logan in a tense voice. "They've already brainwashed her. I managed to get a hold of her when   
they were turnin' the damn machine off."  
Remy pushed the thick black hair away from the young woman's face. Her almond-shaped eyes were unfocused, and   
her jaw slack. "Jubilee? Chere?"  
Logan's fists tightened. "I'm gonna waste this place."  
Remy didn't argue. Looking into Jubilee's once expressive, animated face, he felt much the same way. "We'll get   
Jean to fix her," he murmured reassuringly. Logan just scowled.  
"Yeah. Help me with her. I… don't wanna hurt her."   
Gambit understood. Logan was so angry he could inadvertently lose it, especially if they came across anyone. And   
Jubilee was one of the dearest people in the world to him – he couldn't live with himself if he hurt her. Remy bent   
down and picked up the girl. She seemed much younger than her twenty-two years, her eyes staring helplessly   
through his face. He felt his heart wrench, and smoothed her hair back. "Let's go, chere," he murmured.  
  
Remy was so startled he almost dropped Jubilee. Cable?  
  
Is dere a point to alla dis? Jubilee's hurt, thought Gambit with some asperity. Logan gave him a quizzical look.   
"Cable," he said shortly by way of explanation.  
  
"MERDE!" roared Remy, his eyes boggling. "Dat.. dat's…!"  
I know. But you shouldn't let your prejudices run away with you, said Cable dryly. I read his mind. He'll help   
us, but only for Toby, and only for one day.  
"Y're comparin' me t'…. sacre bleu…" Gambit controlled himself with a great effort.  
Logan was thoroughly bemused and growing more irritated by the second. Holy shit, thought Remy. Logan's right   
here. What the hell do I tell him?  
There was a psionic sigh.   
T'anks, mon ami.  
  
"What the fuck are you up to, Summers," said Logan out loud, his face black as thunder.   
  
"Yeah, yeah. What?"  
There was a pause, not unlike someone taking a large breath.   
Amazingly, Logan didn't go berserk. Gambit was astonished. "Mon ami?"  
"It's okay, Cajun," said Logan in a level tone. "I got it under control. Just… don't make any sudden moves."  
Gambit froze.   
  
"All right. All right. I don't like this, but we ain't got a choice – we're against the wall in this fuckin' place. I'll try  
an' get Jubes outta here. Cajun, go find tiger. Kick Creed for me."   
"Which one?" muttered Remy acerbically, handing Jubilee's limp body to the shorter man. "Good luck, mon ami.   
Don'… happen to anyone."  
"Worry about yerself, Gumbo." Logan's eyes were fierce as he melted into the clinging folds of shadow.  
"I already do," Remy whispered. Well, Cable?  
  
Oui. Quite. Do you know where Toby an' Creed are? Remy asked as he watched the place he had watched Logan   
disappear with Jubilee.   
  
Gambit smiled somewhat sourly. An' where might de containment units be?  
And abruptly Remy knew exactly where the containment units were, and precisely how   
exasperated Cable was. His knees buckled a little, and he leaned against the wall while he shook his head to clear it.  
Warn me next time, homme!   
Rather than sounding apologetic, however, Nathan seemed to take a malicious pleasure in his momentary   
unbalance.   
"Ain't you charming," muttered Gambit as he started down the corridor.  
I do my best.  
"Merde," hissed Remy, as Nathan's ghostly chuckle faded from his mind. "Telepaths… mon dieu."  
A clatter ahead of him alerted him to the approaching contingent of soldiers. He slipped into a doorway, using the   
experience of a thousand burglaries to meld seamlessly with the shadows, as the blank-faced men walked by. That,   
of course, made him wonder how Jubilee was, and if Logan had made it to the Blackbird yet. And by extension, his   
thoughts turned to Bobby, lying unconscious in the infirmary, his body slowly internally melting. He gritted his   
teeth, his eyes a glimmer of pain while the last of the command marched soullessly past. Graceful and nimble as a   
cat, Remy slunk behind them until they came to a T-intersection, and crept down the other passageway. It opened out   
into a vast hall full of vaguely coffin-shaped containers lining the walls in tiers, with ramps and mezzanines allowing   
access. They had masses of electronics covering the sides and reinforced glass lids, and a bizarre crane was stacking   
them in crates. With a chilling wave of nausea, Gambit realized that the containment units were occupied.  
"Long time no pain, Cajun," said a familiar, hated voice from behind him. Remy's anger rose to a boil immediately.  
Toby sighed. "Do you mind?"  
Creed leered. "Not at all. Cajun-baiting is one o' my favourite sports."  
"Stop it, please. Time enough to be threatening and macho later."  
Gambit raised an eyebrow as Creed actually complied. "Cable be joinin' us soon, Toby," he informed the harried-   
looking younger X-Man. "How'd you know dey was here?"  
Toby shrugged. "Hunch. It was some fairly informed guesswork though."  
Remy nodded, and turned back to peer into the cavernous room. "Dat's despicable," he whispered.  
"Ain't it just," muttered Creed. "An' I should know."  
  
  
Man, I could just reach over there an' rip that scrawny Cajun's head right off. Tempting.  
But I can't. Because my son asked me not to.  
My son. Fuck. Y'know, I never gave a shit about Graydon. He was too much like Raven, which was probably why I   
wanted ta kill the little fuck. But Toby… my tiger…  
It's weird, ain't it? Maybe it's cos he understands, or maybe it's cos he can look at me without seein' a monster.   
How, I really don't know. I mean, I fuckin' left him ta die! I'm the definition o' monster, an' I like it that way. Then   
why does it mean so much, that he can look me in the eye?  
Jesus Christ, I'm becomin' a head case. Get a grip, Creed.  
I can't get over how much he's grown. He's as tall as me. How old is he? Eighteen? Nineteen?  
Hah, next thing you know, I'll be readin' his report cards an' tellin' him ta clean his room. Yer a killer, Victor Creed.   
Ya probably ate yer mother, an' you ain't got a son. All you got is you an' an unlimited supply o' victims.  
That Cajun's lookin' at me like he knows somethin'.  
Wait up, he's an empath. Fuck.   
  
  
Logan strode through the undergrowth, swearing with sulfurous venom. Jubilee was a dead weight over one   
shoulder. Her large eyes, once so full of life and laughter, were empty and dark. He couldn't bear looking into them –   
it filled him with ire. He'd not lose another woman he loved, not again!  
That turned his thoughts to Creed – and Toby. His tiger, his protégé. What was going through his head right now?   
What was going through Creed's? (Did he think at all?) A sardonic, bitter grin crossed his lips momentarily. The   
relationship between the two was volatile and complex to the extreme. Toby hated his father – no, loathed him. And   
yet… he identified with him and understood him. A love-hate situation. Crikey.   
He pushed aside the tenacious vines, muttering oaths as they clung to his already ripped beyond repair uniform. He   
could smell the shielded Blackbird not eight meters away, along with the scent of blood and medicine. His sensitive   
nose rebelled, but he grimly pushed ahead. His Jubes came first.   
A nightmare sight greeted him. Jean was partially mobile, but her face was drawn and her hands shook as she nursed   
a cup, hovering over her husband's prone body. Bobby was groaning and thrashing in his enforced coma, his   
stretcher full of water. Kurt wasn't moving, and his eyes were open. Scott's blood was leaking onto the floor. Betsy's   
face was swathed in bandages, her hands red and raw as she worked with fevered distress on Warren's scorched and   
blistered wing. The smell of burnt feathers made him reel. Rogue, wrapped in Toby's coat, was working to bandage   
Scott's legs. Her eyes were full of angry tears, but she kept her hands gentle. Her strength could easily break him if   
she allowed her rage to surface. Logan stared around him in horror.  
Jean pushed her hair out of her eyes. "Logan."  
He could only nod. His mouth was suddenly dry. She smiled sadly in understanding. Her suffering was almost   
palpable.  
"Hank's in the cockpit," she said, her voice breaking. "Is… Jubilee?"  
"She's… she's not good," he faltered, and cleared his throat. He had to be strong for Jeannie. She helped him lay the   
young woman down on a stretcher, and his hands lingered over her hair. Her expressive face was blank and perfectly   
smooth, and it tore at him. "Can you reach her?" he asked in a dead voice.  
She didn't need to say anything. Her eyes told him more than he needed to know.   
She tentatively put a hand on his shaking shoulder. "Logan, maybe the professor…"  
"Please, Jeannie."  
"Logan, I love her too! And everyone's… Scott's…" Her head dropped forward into her hands, and he wrapped his   
arms around her as she started to sob into his chest. He said nothing as she clung to him, his mind numb with pain   
and shock. Keep thinkin', keep movin', don't let it come crashin' in.   
He disentangled himself gently and held her hands, looking calmly into her red-rimmed green eyes. "Do what you   
can, Red. All yer able t'do. That's all anyone's ever asked of you."  
She swallowed, nodding slowly. He held her gaze for a moment more, then strode from the infirmary towards the   
cockpit. He wouldn't allow himself to think on what had happened, how it had happened. He knew his voice sounded   
hollow, it echoed in his soul. He stopped in the door.  
Hank had passed out. His legs were twisted gruesomely, swollen and puffy under the fur. They were smeared in   
some sort of pain-deadening cream which had a shockingly acrid smell. His head was against the console, his eyes   
rolled back into his head. The contact intercom was open, filling the room with static. He'd been trying to dial for   
help.   
Fuck.  
Logan moved quickly. He cautiously lifted Hank and lay him down on the gleaming metal floor. He groaned briefly,   
then stilled back into unconsciousness. Pausing briefly, Logan carefully felt around the left knee. The bone was out   
of alignment.   
"Sorry 'bout this, Blue ol' buddy," he whispered, then pulled it straight with a nauseating wrench. Hank screamed,   
his gargantuan hands flailing, before he bit down hard on one fist. His eyes rolled around wildly, before the pain put   
him under again. Logan closed his twitching eyes, before moving for the other leg.  
Once he was done, Hank was whimpering in his sleep, but his knees were straight. Logan wiped his forehead gently,   
then rose in one fluid movement for the intercom. "Wolverine of the X-Men. Widow, come in."  
The face that filled the screen was tired and grumpy. Disheveled red hair was mashed to one side of her head.   
"What?! That's the second time you…"  
"Natasha, it's bad," he interrupted her. "We need some help. Hank passed out while tryin' ta reach ya. Half the   
team's critically injured. You got the co-ordinates?"  
Her eyes registered shock. "I… wait. Yes."  
"I don't care who ya bring, girl, but bring someone quick! Toby's tryin' ta hold the entire team together, an'   
Sabretooth's here in the bargain."  
"But isn't Sabretooth his… oh my god," her hand flew to her mouth. "Little uncle…"  
"Exactly," he said grimly. "ASAP, Natasha. Before this whole situation flies apart at the seams."  
Not that it hasn't already, he reflected bitterly as he disengaged the visual screens.  
  
  
There will be time, there will be time  
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;  
There will be time to murder and create,  
And time for all the days and works of hands  
That lift and drop a question on your plate…  
  
"So?"  
"So what?"  
"Yer in charge. What do we do now?"  
Toby resisted the urge to snarl at his father. Such a move was suicide. "We'll need as much of the team as is able.   
And anyone we've managed to contact."  
"So we wait, den?" asked Gambit.  
Toby shook his head. "We'll need to contact a telepath. Find out the current status."  
Creed snorted. "I can tell you yer status. Yer fucked."  
"Thanks for that invaluable information, Dad," replied Toby sardonically. "But I think I'm after a bit more detail. I'll   
try and get in touch with Cable, Remy, you try for Jean."  
"Oui, homme." Mon dieu, thought Gambit. He's acting more like a leader than Cyke does. He wasn't sure if he liked   
that thought.  
Toby closed his eyes, his brow furrowing in concentration. Cable?  
No answer.   
Cable!  
  
Toby winced. Er… yeah. What's the status?  
  
Not good, I'm afraid. I'm trying to keep Remy and my father from loggerheads, but it isn't quite working. We've   
found the captured mutants in the containment pods, but there's too many guards. We could perhaps release a few   
before we'd be found and swarmed over. And I'm not sure what kind of state the released mutant would be in.  
  
I guess.   
  
Remind me to take lessons, then. Could you pass it along? Toby glanced at the ferociously concentrating Gambit.   
Remy's trying to get in contact with Jean, but it doesn't look like he's being successful. Where are you?  
Cable's thoughts trailed off as Toby's aura of guilt filtered through.   
Believe me, I didn't mean to. I tried to put them to sleep, so that I wouldn't have to. Toby's eyes slid shut again. The   
one who's against the wall ordered them to their death. I pinned him there so he wouldn't choke on his blood.  
Cable's disapproval was almost as palpable as his grudging admiration.   
Sure. And warn everyone about Creed, please. I can't afford to blow this on old enmities. Toby opened his eyes as   
Cable's presence slid from his mind. Gambit was still focusing, his face a rictus of concentration. "Okay, Remy. I   
got through to Nate. He'll inform the others."  
He relaxed. "Merde. Like runnin' into a brick wall."  
Toby didn't say anything. He knew Gambit was unusually hard for telepaths to read. Beside him, Creed shifted in the   
darkness. "Well? What the fuck's goin' on?"  
Toby let out a breath. "Logan reached Natasha Romanov. Half the team's out. They'll get here as soon as possible."  
A noise somewhere down the corridor made him start. Creed whipped his head around at the exact same time. Remy   
looked with wide eyes from one to the other, drawing three cards from under his worn duster.   
"Put 'em away, Cajun. That glow 'll bring an investigator."  
Toby let the tension bleed out of him a little, but kept a watchful eye on Creed. "Logan. Cable reach you?"  
"Yeah. 'Ro's not far behind me. An' Rogue, Jean an' Betts are comin' once they get Bobby ta stop freezin' the damn   
Blackbird." Logan settled down beside Remy, his eyes behind his ruined mask deliberately keeping from Sabretooth.   
Creed noticed it as well, and grinned. "Hiya runt."  
Logan ignored him, but the muscles along his jaw rippled. "I got through to the Black Widow. Natasha 'll be here in   
about half an hour, with whoever she got to come with her. We gotta lie low till then."   
"Where's m'sieu Summers, den?" asked Gambit in a hoarse whisper.  
Logan shrugged. "Dunno. Damn telepaths. Fuck, what I wouldn't give for a smoke…" he added in a hiss.  
"Calm it," said Toby warningly. "No use getting angry. We have to wait for the others before you can let off that   
steam, Logan."  
He nodded once, and settled back against the wall to wait.  
  
  
Natalia Romanov, also known as the Black Widow, and one of the Avengers, touched the jet down in the trees not   
far from where the sensors indicated the Blackbird. Behind her, the rag-tag team of super-beings she had collected at   
short notice grumbled and shifted and bitched. She pursed her lips. Whatever possessed me to accompany Northstar   
and Deadpool in the same mission, I'll never know or forgive.   
"You okay?" asked the legend beside her. Nick Fury, ex-Director of SHIELD, who had assembled this mismatched   
group of temporary teammates regarded her with one coal-black, wry eye.   
"I will be fine, Nicholas. As long as the web-slinger there can stop trading those vulgar witticisms with that overly   
clever opportunistic assassin."  
Deadpool smirked under his mask.   
Fury shrugged expansively and leaned back in his chair, shifting his ever present cigar to the other side of his mouth.   
"Best I could do on short notice, Widow. As it is, I pulled a few markers I shouldn't have. The Agency's gonna have   
my hide."  
She smiled a little. "You may always blame it on me."  
"Nah. Publicly, I'm gonna blame the X-Men. Half the damn council hate mutants as it is, so it should go down a   
treat." He grinned viciously. "Personally, I'm gonna blame the arsehole who got my pals inta this mess."  
She gave the unlikely group a cursory glance. "Everyone here has had some dealings with the X-Men before, good   
and bad," she mused as they prepared to exit the jet. The motor mouthed Spiderman, Alpha Flight's Northstar, the   
mercenary Deadpool and the once X-Men Marrow and Shadowcat, regarded her patiently or warily for orders. She   
sighed.   
"I am going to kill Logan for this," she muttered. Fury gave her a sour look.  
"Not if I get to the runt first. He owes me two large at poker."  
"Wonderful." She raised her voice. "Anyone here particularly adept at telepathic shouting? We need some handle on   
what is occurring before we go charging in there."  
"Charging?" asked Spiderman in a slightly offended tone.   
Kitty Pryde nodded. "Did Logan say what telepaths are involved?" she asked. Beside her, Marrow scowled.  
Natasha shook her head. "I can assume that Phoenix is with them, but we cannot be sure about Cable."  
She bit her lower lip, her brow furrowing. "Great. Well, I'll try and call to Jean."  
"…I don't even know how to charge. Advance, yes, swing, definitely… but charging? Geez…"  
"Shut up, Spidey," snapped Shadowcat, before closing her eyes.  
"Humph!"  
"Mon dieu," muttered Northstar in disgust, before turning back to his disinterested vigil.  
Kitty bent her will to the task, thinking as 'loudly' as she could. Inside, she was bleeding. She had so hoped that she   
would never again be needed in this sort of thing, not after what had happened to Piotr. She thought she had severed   
all ties. Then came the call to arms from Nick Fury, and she found she couldn't let down her friends and family, not   
when they needed her in the pinch. It was a sobering revelation. Jean? JEAN?  
  
"NATHAN!" she shrieked. "Oh, thank god you heard me! Jean's not answering…"  
  
Yes… what's the status? Is Logan there with you? Who's hurt?  
The sarcasm was overpowering.   
Kitty felt her jaw hit shoe-leather. "Oh lord…"  
  
Okay, we're coming, Nathan. Where are you?  
Kitty   
felt the information flood into her head, and groaned a little. Cable was obviously in a full scale 'Nate-mood,'   
because he hadn't even bothered to be gentle.   
Thanks… I think. I'll let the others know.  
  
Umm… there's me, Marrow, Spidey, Northstar, the Widow and Nick Fury. Oh, and Deadpool.  
came back the fading response. Kitty grinned briefly, before opening her eyes. She was   
greeted by six expectant or irritated glares.   
"Well?" demanded the aforesaid smartarse mercenary.  
Kitty smiled sweetly at him. "I got in touch with Cable," she told him in saccharine tones. He groaned.  
"Oh gawd… not Cable," he echoed. She laughed out loud at that, before the seriousness of the situation came   
crashing back down on her.   
"Okay, he gave me the directions to where they are. Apparently the people who run this place brainwash mutants and   
pack them into containment units. That's where Wolverine, Cable, Gambit, Storm, Rogue, Phoenix, Psylocke and   
Toby are rendezvousing. Oh, and Sabretooth's agreed to help, but only for one day. That's all the X-Men who are   
able-bodied right now."  
Six utterly horrified silences greeted this remark.  
Kitty frowned at them. "I got one question. Who's Toby?"  
Sarah cleared her throat, pulling a bone dagger from her back. Her eyes were fixed four years ago, at a short, thin   
boy with claws and blond hair, who talked to her and understood her. Became her second real friend after Piotr   
Rasputin died. "You'll see. You can't miss the family resemblance."  
"He's not a Summers, is he?"  
  
  
And indeed there will be time  
To wonder, "Do I dare?" and "Do I dare?"  
  
All talking had stopped. Nate sat with a small frown on his face as he conversed with whoever the Widow had   
brought. My father seemed to enjoy the effect he was having on my teammates. Rogue and Storm seemed especially   
uncomfortable. Betsy wouldn't even acknowledge his presence.  
Beautiful. Simply fantastic.  
I was sinking deeper into surly angst. I'm not usually one to wallow in that favourite of X-Man pastimes, but hey, I   
figured I was long overdue. So I hulked in one corner, alone with my increasingly morbid thoughts. Which of course   
made me irritated with myself – that I would indulge my self-pity like that. Soon I felt like a small-scale war was   
being waged in my cranium. Plus, I was dying for a smoke.  
Logan was idly tracing patterns on the floor with a claw. He didn't bother veiling the threat.   
Nathan's eyes snapped back into focus. "They're here," he said shortly.  
"Who?" asked Gambit, blatantly fingering a card. Internally, I rolled my eyes. Obviously the idea of subtlety had   
completely escaped my superiors.   
"The Widow contacted Fury. He collected Shadowcat, Marrow, Northstar, Spiderman, and Deadpool."  
"Ah fuck, not Deadpool," growled Logan miserably. I brightened considerably at the thought of seeing Sarah again.   
"Oh fuck, not Northstar," came an answering groan from my father. This granted him more than a few strange stares.   
He snarled.  
"I refuse to think about that," said Cable in a strictly neutral tone. "They'll be here very shortly. We'd better have a   
plan by then, I suggest."  
I blinked as their eyes returned to me. Back in the leader's seat, Toby. "Obviously."  
The corner of his mouth quirked. I scowled, finally understanding why Scott made such a perfect leader. It was   
because he never had any imagination.   
  
I raised an eyebrow at him. Oh yes, I'm done. Are you making a suggestion, or are you brow-beating me into taking   
responsibility?  
  
I know. I saw that almost immediately.  
  
Stop that. It suggests to me that we should make it easy for them to find us. I think we should engage the guards   
before our little rescue party gets here, so they can act as reinforcement. It's got to be better than sitting here while   
everyone whines at my father. We should be okay, as long as they don't cut it too fine. Can you get a hold of where   
they are?  
Nate concentrated.   
Thank god for Fury. Tell me when they get to the null-chambers. That's close enough, so we won't be fighting alone   
for too long. Anyway, the noise should bring them.  
Cable's eyes slid shut.  
"Okay guys," I began. "When Cable gives the word, we're going to attack the guards. That way, Fury's little gang   
will be able to find us, and if we can cancel out these mindless soldiers we can get to work on the containment units.   
Remember, I want non-fatal, incapacitating injuries, people. It's not the guard's fault he's been brainwashed."  
Betsy nodded tersely, and my father looked at me with unspoken query. I held his gaze.   
Finally, he grinned. "Non-fatal it is then, tiger."  
Logan looked startled, that my father should give me that same nickname. I cocked my head at him. "You right?"  
He dropped his gaze. "Yep." Then his head rose again, and he treated me to that 3000-watt diamond drill blue stare.   
It was unnerving. "Y'know, enough people call you that. You oughta make it your code-name, kiddo."  
My turn to be startled. "What… Tiger?"  
He nodded.  
A pause, and then I shrugged. "Makes as much sense as any of them I suppose."  
Rogue grinned at me. "An' you can answer to it without feelin' stupid."  
I snorted under my breath. "Not likely. But then, I think the whole concept of code-names is fairly ridiculous, so I'm   
not exactly an impartial adjudicator."  
"We'll have a brewski t' celebrate your new code-name when we get outta this mess," Logan said with a forced   
smile. In the half-light, it seemed more like a grimace or snarl, but I nodded anyway, keeping an eye on the   
ferociously concentrating Cable.  
"I'd settle for a smoke," I mused. "But a beer sounds good too."  
"If we get out of it," muttered Betsy, and I glared at her.  
"We will. I'm not even considering failure as an option. We are wasting this place, freeing those mutants, and getting   
the fuck out of here. Understood?" In some part of my brain not consumed with vengeful, righteous fury or turbulent   
confusion concerning my father, I dimly realized I had just delivered a crisp ultimatum to a telekinetic ninja who had   
been trained as one of the most capable assassins on the crust of this planet. Oh well – I always did seem hell-bent on   
destruction, my own or otherwise.  
To my mild astonishment, she took the reprimand calmly, nodding her head, bandaged face preternaturally calm. Her   
purple eye glinted from under the gauze. "Understood."  
Nate's eyes snapped open, one blazing golden. "They're at the null-chambers. Spiderman and Deadpool are trading   
off-colour jokes."  
"Beautiful. All right people, I'm not one for flamboyance, but let's make this as noisy and ostentatious as possible.   
Though if anyone starts doing a Magneto impression, I'm going to throw up," I added sourly, and Creed grunted his   
wholehearted approval. "Whenever you're ready then."  
Everyone tensed with impending violence.  
"Now!" I roared, and delicate self-control snapped like a brittle twig.  
  
  
And I have known the eyes already, known them all –   
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,  
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,  
When I am pinned and wriggling on a wall  
Then how should I begin  
To spit out the butt-ends of my days and ways?  
And how should I presume?  
  
"Mon dieu!" gasped Northstar, as a kinetic implosion rocked the compound.  
Kitty's eyes were alert and sharp as she quickly took the lead. "That was Gambit. I think it was this way."  
"Remind me why I'm doing this again?" grumbled Fury as he ran behind the various super-beings.  
"Because Logan owes you two large in poker," supplied Deadpool succinctly, and Fury sighed.  
"There's a point. Which way?"  
"Left." Kitty followed the directions Cable had implanted in her mind unhesitatingly, shifting silently through the   
darkness like the animal she was named for. Jean-Paul idly wondered if she was phasing, and if that were the reason   
for her astonishing stealth. Or perhaps it was just Wolverine's intensive training. The magenta-haired Morlock girl,   
Marrow, slunk behind her, perfectly at home in the crushing darkness. For Jean-Paul, it was somehow oppressive,   
clinging, and the nearing sounds of furious battle did little to bolster his confidence.  
A dim, reddish light grew nearer as they approached the confrontation, opening out into a hall. Vaguely coffin-like   
containers lined an entire wall and were scattered in monstrous heaps over the floor. But that was nothing compared   
to the wave of mindless humanity that converged upon the small group attacking ferociously and with a sense of   
desperation in the centre of the hall. Kitty's eyes widened as she took in Betsy's ravaged face and Jean's hopeless   
expression, and the look of enraged anguish that marked Logan. And then to the two almost-identical men with   
blond hair and claws…  
"Lord…" she breathed. "This Toby is Sabretooth's son…"  
Marrow gave her a quick nod. "Yeah."  
"No-one ever told me."  
"You've been out of the game for a few years now."  
"I can see what you meant about the family resemblance."  
"It goes way fuckin' deeper than looks."  
"Well…" said Deadpool with a palpable tone of relief, "at least he's not a Summers."  
"Come on!" hissed the Widow, leaping at the edges of the fray, her Widow's bite flashing.   
Spiderman moaned, "I'm getting too old for this shit," before shooting a web-line and following her.  
"You're getting too old…" growled Fury as he puffed to keep up.  
Northstar flashed over the heads of the blank-faced human horde, his eyes darting for the pitifully small band of   
rescuers. He spotted a flash of metal here and a glow there, but he could not particularly pick them out amid the   
throng of crowded bodies. He grimaced. If only there was some way these people could break conditioning…  
Abruptly he blinked. "Spiderman?"  
The red and blue clad web-slinger kicked one man down, and then punched another for good measure before joining   
the Canadian mutant in the air. "Hmm?"  
"Can you think of any way to help these people break conditioning?"  
Spiderman hung upside-down for a second, thinking. "No. Telepathy wouldn't work – they're bound to have tried   
that…"  
"Oui… but did you see those machines in the null chambers we passed?"  
"Yeah?"  
"I believe those are what was used to brainwash them. My teammate Walter would speak of this theory he had…"  
"You proposing we go get them?"  
Jean-Paul grinned suddenly. "Not at all."  
Toby was surrounded by their stinking, sweaty, vacant bodies, with hardly enough space to turn around. Their sheer   
numbers were wearing away even at his considerable strength, and his efforts to maintain only incapacitating but   
non-lethal injuries were wasted in this sea of human mindlessness. He dimly spotted a head of pink hair before the   
familiar scent reached him over the rancid, sweating bodies. "Sarah?"  
"Toby!" she yelled back. "We're all here!"  
Abruptly the two felt Cable's presence in their minds. His usually dry, sarcastic tone was strained.   
A light so intensely bright seared into every iris and sclera, imprinting shocking infra-red after-images contorting   
behind clenched eyelids. The mass of brainwashed guards screamed out in agony, before passing out or collapsing in   
the throes of some helpless torture. Toby dropped to his knees, gritting his teeth in pain. It literally felt like his eyes   
were frying – melting behind his fragile eyelids and running liquid down his cheeks, before they were plunged into   
that reddish relative darkness, blinking in astonishment. The guards lay twitching convulsively on the ground,   
moaning fitfully in some description of enforced nightmare. Toby shuddered and looked around, blinking with   
watery orbs as he searched for his friends.  
There was a fwip! and the infamous Spiderman swung into the cavernous room, looking around in surprise. "Well,   
whaddaya know?" he said. "It worked after all!"  
  
  
The mutants in the containment units emerged from a state of perfect hibernation with no more than sleep in their   
eyes and lengthy yawns. I was beyond relieved that no lasting damage had been done to them. There were, in total,   
about nineteen of them, in all ages and sizes and colours. They shied away from my father and I with apparent   
nervousness. I didn't blame them.  
Northstar sketchily outlined what he'd done to knock out the brainwashed guards. He'd hotwired the machine,   
booted the power, linked it to his own mutant super-fast physiology, and let it run backward. Everything within a   
radius of one hundred meters was flooded with the 'dense light' that had illuminated everything in such bizarre and   
painful detail. It had only stopped when Northstar collapsed, his vital signs low. The light had been a subconscious   
signal implanted in the brains of the guards and the captured mutants, and its repetition erased all effects of the   
brainwashing. They hadn't any idea how they had got there.  
"Tobes!"  
I wheeled from the supervision of carting the unconscious soldiers from the hall as Sarah ran up to me, throwing two   
bone daggers into the hard-packed earthen floor and wrapping her arms around my chest. She didn't even reach my   
shoulders anymore. "Hey Sarah! How've you been?"  
"You grew," she accused me, before grinning vindictively. "I've been working as an undercover agent for X-Force.   
It's great work, an' it's mainly espionage. Underground stuff!"  
I laughed. "Right at home, hey?"  
"Betcher fuckin' ass. How'd you get into this mess?"  
I glanced up to where Logan and my father studiously ignored each other. "Erm… long story."  
She followed my gaze, and her eyes went flinty. "Not today," she said quietly, staring at my father's back. "Not   
today, because he helped. And because of you. But someday, I am gonna shish kebab that dumb son of a bitch."  
"That would make me the son of a shish kebab," I said mildly, and she laughed again, exuding a confidence I didn't   
remember her possessing.   
"You're the grandson of a bitch, Toberoonie," she said affectionately. "You finally picked a code-name, huh?"  
"It got picked for me," I returned dryly. "How are the wounded?"  
She scowled. "Bad, bad, worse, bad, fuckin' awful. Fury went to fly them straight to hospital in the Blackbird,   
including your throated friend out at the gateway."   
I winced.   
She waved her hand, dismissing it. "I woulda done worse, specially in your shoes. Rogue said you went berserker?"  
"I didn't kill anyone," I grumbled. "I just wasted the machine."  
"I ain't getting angry about it!" Suddenly, Sarah was indeed angry. "Toby, you just led this mission, which was   
absolutely fuckin' hopeless less than a day ago, to victory, without a single death. Sure, you ripped 'em up good, but   
that couldn't be helped. So quit gettin' nervous about goin' animal already, and start to feel a little proud!"  
I blinked. I hadn't thought of it quite that way. "Well…"  
She was grinning at me now. "Exactly. Now get me up there and gimme a hug."  
I picked her up and she wrapped herself around me, pulling my head down and ruffling my hair. I snarled good-  
naturedly as a bone started to poke uncomfortably into my side and she rolled her eyes. "Come on, that can't hurt.   
You got electrocuted twice today."  
"I know. I was there. And actually, it was three times." I pulled her up and easily sat her across my shoulders. "Shall   
we?"   
She buried her hands into my hair again, and I could feel her grinning maliciously. "Why not? I have to introduce   
you to Kitty."  
"Hmm?"  
"Shadowcat. She's fuckin' petrified of you."  
"Me?"  
"Yeah you, dumbass. Move it, ya big hairy oaf."  
I felt a little wounded at that. "Big hairy oaf?"  
"Hey, I haven't seen you in four years. Gimme a break. I didn't expect you to grow so fast."   
I strode past the bewildered escapees, and scented Ororo talking fervently to the young woman, Kitty, over near an   
opened unit. It looked rather like a ruptured seed pod, slit down the middle by Logan's claws and pulled open by my   
father and I. I nodded to them, bumping my head against Sarah's stomach as I did so, and Kitty smiled tremulously   
up at her. "Not a bad fight, huh, Marrow?"  
"Hello Sarah," said Storm with real, if a trifle uncertain affection. I hoisted the pink-haired girl over my head and set   
her on her feet.  
"Damn," she grinned at me. "It was kinda fun being as tall as you for a while."  
"Midget," I teased. She smirked.  
"Big hairy oaf, remember?"  
Kitty looked astonished. "You can talk to him that way?"  
"Well, he is," said Sarah with a shrug, before turning to Ororo. "Hiya, windrider," she said cautiously.  
"How have you been?"  
She scratched at a bone protrusion on her elbow. "Good. I busted a drug ring and banged up the leader. I've been   
thinking about becoming a kind of upworlder crime fighter. An' Sam finally kissed me," she added proudly.  
"It took four years?" chuckled Storm. "I am glad to see you happy, Sarah."  
Marrow held her eyes, and didn't blink. Evidently satisfied with what she found there, she nodded. "Thanks, Ororo."  
Storm looked surprised and pleased that Marrow had used her name.  
"So…" said Kitty nervously to me. "How'd you like leading the team?"  
I snorted, dropping to my haunches to talk to her more easily. "It would have been far better if Cable didn't insist on   
those clever witticisms of his, and if my damn father didn't insist on baiting everyone in sight."  
"How did you… control him?" she asked, fear and awe a little evident in her scent. I was uncomfortable, thinking   
that yet another person might be afraid of me for no reason other than my parentage.   
"I didn't," I answered. "He did. We have… a very fucked up relationship.".  
"He hates him," supplied Sarah.   
"Yeah," I agreed. "But…" I couldn't finish it. It was too complicated for even me to unravel, genius mind or not. I   
sighed  
"I think I understand," said Kitty softly. I smiled wryly.  
"Glad one of us does. Storm?" I looked up at Ororo, who was regarding me compassionately.   
"Yes, Tiger?"  
I grimaced, but didn't say anything at that. Marrow crowed at my irritation. "I think it's about time we went looking   
for the leaders of this show."  
She blinked, cobalt eyes narrowing. "You are right. In the excitement, I forgot about the people who must have been   
coordinating this operation. Shall I inform the telepaths?"  
I nodded, turning to Sarah and Kitty. "You two are welcome to join us."  
Sarah readily assented. Kitty seemed hesitant, but reluctantly agreed. "Cable said Logan, Sabretooth, Deadpool,   
Gambit, Spiderman and himself are ready to assist," reported Storm.  
I stood up, flexing my neck. "Okay then," I muttered. "Let's go find the bastards." I led them across the hall to where   
the other half of my small group waited, uncomfortable in each other's presence. Nate, can you provide us with a   
telepathic sweep of the compound?  
  
"Logan, Dad," I said curtly. "We're going to use our noses. Storm, Gambit, you use your knowledge of atmospheric   
or kinetic fields. Deadpool, Sarah, Shadowcat, Spidey – you watch our backs. I hope to god all the guards were in   
that hall."  
Spidey ripped off a textbook salute. I gave him a long, steady stare before he began to shift under my gaze, and then   
I grinned. "Don't do that," I told him. "I'm not Fury."  
Nathan's eyes refocused, and he turned to me. "There's a shielded presence in the west quarter of the compound," he   
said lowly. "I couldn't focus upon it too much before the psionic sensors registered me, but whoever is in there is   
flonqing terrified."  
I nodded. "Sounds about right. Anyone been through the west part of this dump?"  
Remy scratched at his chin. "I t'ink I took a wrong turning through the ducts before, mon ami," he said doubtfully. "I   
was halfway through dere before I realized an' turned back."  
"What the fuck were you doing in the ducts?" I asked him, surprised.  
"Don't ask," said Logan, chuckling at the Cajun's discomfiture.   
  
  
Would it have been worth while,  
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,  
To have squeezed the universe into a ball  
To roll it towards some overwhelming question,  
To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead,   
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all - "  
  
Sabretooth led the way through the dank, morbid halls. Sarah was obviously trying to control herself from sending a   
million bone slivers through his body. I sighed. This had been a goddamn long day.  
Logan stalked at my side. Behind us, Cable indicated the general direction to take. The scents here were stifled by   
the clinging damp, and if anything it was darker than the central wing of this godforsaken military complex.   
Gambit shifted suddenly. "Can sense somethin' big in de next room," he reported in a whisper only I, Logan and my   
father could hear. I relayed it to Cable, who nodded.  
Then he grinned fiercely.   
An actual compliment? I think I'll blush.  
  
Point. Okay, then, if this room is psionically shielded, it stands to reason that it has some substantial physical   
defenses as well. The door is too obvious and likely the most heavily guarded, so we're going to have to try some   
creativity.  
  
I waited while Cable relayed that to the rest of the team. Spiderman seemed more than a little uncomfortable having   
someone else inside his head, while Deadpool was openly hostile, crossing his arms and glowering through his mask.   
Logan nodded to me, unsheathing his claws, and I held up a hand. Cable, link me to Kitty, Remy and Logan.  
He blinked in surprise, but nodded. I assume you have a plan?  
Trust me.  
I HATE it when people say that to me.  
I smirked. I know.  
Tiger?  
Hi Logan. I can't have you slicing your way through the walls before we know what protects them. If my hunch plays   
off, there's some pretty heavy-duty gadgetry in them. I don't want you lying on the floor with your nerves fried when   
we need you in a pinch. Remy? Kitty?  
Kitty's voice sounded reluctant but confident in my mind. Yes?  
Oui?  
Kitty, when I read the files, I learned that your phasing disrupts electronic circuitry.   
Oh, well done, thought Gambit admiringly.   
Thanks awfully. Kitty, could you phase through the walls before Remy blasts them? That should protect us all. I'm   
not losing anyone on this mission.  
  
Thought you were enjoying the workout, I replied sardonically.  
  
Sure. Keep the debris from flying everywhere, and if you could, widen the hole Gambit makes. That should do it.  
You're right, came Remy's thought. He is developing a pretty good analytical mind.  
  
Kitty phased through the wall like a ghost. It was extraordinary to watch, her substance intermingling and sliding   
through the solid rock and mortar. Electricity fizzed as she moved along, proving my hunch right, and I sighed in   
relief at the precautions I had taken. Soon, the wall buzzed and shrieked as whatever defenses inside were completely   
frazzled, short-circuited beyond repair. Kitty surveyed her handiwork with detachment, moving away from the wall   
before nodding to Remy. The three cards he held began to glow with a faint, rosy light, which built in intensity as he   
charged them to their fullest extent.  
Behind me, there was a silvery snikt!  
"Let's go!" shouted Sarah, and Remy brought his arm down, the cards spinning with deadly intent towards the   
sizzling wall. They impacted with an explosive, silent detonation, and Cable calmly erected a telekinetic shield that   
protected us from the debris, before savagely ripping away at the craggy, gaping hole. My father leapt through first,   
followed by Deadpool and Logan, each creeping in a slow, military-style crouch, their eyes darting through the dust.   
I moved after them, and Cable nodded to me before ducking in before me.  
Inside, a huge, metallic web covered the ceiling, blinking and glittering with lights and scaffolding. People gaped at   
us from above as the dust cleared, and I noted absently a glass booth in the centre of the web. Cable grimaced, before   
turning to me.   
"Do you know what that is?" he hissed.  
"No idea," I murmured back.  
"It's a telecommunications junction. It's their way of advertising their auctions, broadcasting them for the highest   
bidder. They're spreading information about this operation to the furthest reaches of the flonqing galaxy!"  
"Holy fuck…" breathed Sarah.   
"Well? Let's trash it!" growled Creed.  
"That might be the only good idea you've had this decade," muttered Nathan, and Logan snorted in assent, before   
golden flames spat from Cable's eye, and Logan span to slice through one of the web's support posts.  
Spiderman sighed. "It's very stylish though."  
"You couldn't afford it, mon ami," laughed Gambit, throwing a few more cards into the mayhem for good measure.   
"Good point." And Spiderman threw a web-line onto the junction of the web, acrobatically hoisting himself up and   
swing across the room to kick a startled guard in the mouth.   
"Nathan!" I roared as four guards shuffled mindlessly towards me. "Where's the leader?"  
He parried a bayonet thrust with his psimitar, and brought it up sharply to knock his attacker out with the haft, before   
wheeling to answer. "The booth!" he yelled, pushing silver hair out of his eyes.  
I looked up at the glass dome in the centre of the pulsing electronic spread, before pushing my way through the four   
guards which converged on me and hoisting myself up onto one of the support pillars.   
"Toby, what are you doing?" I heard my father bellow.  
"I don't know," I muttered, "but fuck I hope it works."  
I hauled myself up the pillar, ignoring my singeing hair as my claws found electronic junctures. Once at the outskirts   
of the web, men on the scaffolding began to fire rounds of plasma at me, and I hissed as my back began to bubble   
from plasma burn. Ducking behind the sparkling black vines, I swung around by one hand and leapt for the sniper,   
idly snapping his neck in my pain and anger and throwing the gun for the floor, where Deadpool caught it.  
"Very nice," he purred, before smashing it into a guard's face.  
I grinned down at him, before a bullet punctured my shoulder. I could feel the pent-up force in it, and realized it was   
a delayed-reaction bullet. If I didn't get it out in thirty seconds, it would explode inside me. Jesus fuck! I clawed   
frantically at my own flesh, exposing my own sinew and bone. Blood dripped everywhere, and the pain was enough   
to make me pass out. I felt cautiously around my shoulder-bone, at the smooth, slickened nub which protruded   
behind it, and almost howled in pain. The bullet was lodged into my bone.  
"This has really, really been a shit day," I murmured in a pain-soaked tone, before pulling as hard as I could at the   
bullet. It came free with a horrifying crack, and I screamed as my shoulder broke, and then began to re-knit. I looked   
with venom at the bullet in my good hand, and then up at the glass booth, standing shakily. My arm hung uselessly,   
blood dripping from my fingers.  
"That's it," I croaked. "I was relatively pissed off before, but now I'm really fuckin' mad!"  
I tossed the bullet over the side of the scaffolding, and it fell almost in slow motion, landing with a tinkle on a   
junction of crossed cables before exploding in a shower of little black circuits. I grinned at the shocking waste, and at   
the side of scaffolding which abruptly came loose, sending men tumbling to splatter on the floor below. I sang   
briefly, healing my shoulder, before leaping catlike for the platform above, slitting a man's throat and disemboweling   
another. I was in full berserker mayhem, and I was loving it. All thoughts of my humanity, my duty as a member of   
the X-Men, were forgotten as I ripped them apart in my bloody advance upon the glass dome.  
Then suddenly, my father was there. Blood ran from his claws too, but his eyes were clear as he looked at me.   
"Toby, calm the fuck down," he said seriously. "You don't want to do this."  
A growl was my only reply.  
"I been there. An' look at me." He walked towards me slowly, his eyes still holding mine. "You once told me that   
you aspired ta be everything I wasn't. Well, I'm tellin' you now, this is the way I started."  
My breath was ragged. "They made me break my own shoulder," I snarled. "I think it's fair I return the favour."  
"So did I." He tilted his head, those yellow eyes glinting. "I wanted to kill the world for killin' me."  
"Yes!"  
"No!" He shook his head emphatically. His blonde hair swung with the motion. So much like mine. "It ain't right fer   
you. Me, I said I was too old ta change. Besides, I gotta reputation to maintain." He chuckled briefly. "You, you're   
meant to stand fer somethin' better. You're meant to stand fer everythin' I gave up on."  
"I'm going to fuckin' kill them!" I hissed, flexing my hands. "You're in my way."  
"No you ain't, an' I'm not moving." He crossed his arms, staring intently at me. Insistent amber headlamps shining   
into my eyes. I half-moaned.  
"Fight it," he murmured. "Yer smart, an' yer brave, no-one doubts that. But the measure of a man is not how smart or   
brave he is, but how hard he tries fer somethin' better."  
I dropped to my knees, growling and gasping in effort. "Oh god…" The red haze would not retreat. Part of me still   
welcomed it, and my iron control was gone, dissipated like so much smoke. "I can't push it back…"  
He backhanded me across the face. I leapt to my feet, snarling. "You can!" he barked. "An' you will! I ain't havin'   
you turn out like me!"  
My snarl turned into a roar, and I lunged, swiping four red lines across his chest. "You gave up the right to tell me   
what to do when you left me to die!"  
He rolled and swung a leg out, but I leapt over it and crashed straight against him. We fought like two wildcats,   
tearing insanely at each other, ripping chunks of flesh out with teeth and claws. The platform shook as we snarled   
and spat. It was like looking into a distorted mirror.  
Flood upon flood of hatred and bile sizzled through me. I was consumed by the purifying fire of my own vitriolic   
revenge, my malevolence giving me strength. I kicked him in the head, and he flew across the floor to land heavily   
against the handrail, where I pulled him down in order to skin him. "You left me to die," I grunted, as I ripped a strip   
of skin from my father's back. "You raped my mother and left me to die…"  
He coughed and rolled over, looking at me steadily through one blackening eye. "An' yer well on the way to doin'   
the same thing. Look at me. You keep this up, this'll be you in twenty years."  
I paused.  
Oh my god.  
The slimy, sickening strip in my hand fell with a wet noise, and blood pooled in sticky, hot puddles under him. I   
fought the urge to retch. Oh my god.  
"You can fight it," he told me, his usually resonant baritone rusty and forced. "Yer stronger than I am. I didn't know   
I could until it was too late fer me… and it was you what gave me the strength."  
Oh my god.  
He coughed up a little more blood, and lay back slowly, waiting to heal. The silence was deafening, except for the   
steady drip, drip, drip under us. I shook my head, trying to deny this. It didn't happen, it never happened, oh my god   
oh my god oh my god…  
Everyone seemed to be looking at me.  
I pulled my father's hand out from underneath him. His arm was twisted and the joints were already beginning to   
swell. They were covered in my blood and his own, intermingled with the blood he had shed for decades, rusting   
slowly under his claws. And I understood. The confusion which had haunted me my entire life became crystalline,   
cool clarity.  
"I think I love you too, Dad," I said softly.  
He didn't answer. Panicking, I began to sing, hunting for the elusive spark of healing magic that had always saved   
him. It was overtaxed and struggling: I had practically killed him. Carefully, I boosted his healing factor, trying not   
to give it more power than it could master, just enough to handle one wound at a time. His breathing became less   
labored as his lungs cleared of blood, and his bones re-knit and straightened. The discoloured contusions smoothed,   
new skin regenerated. Finally he coughed and spat blood, before slowly sitting up with a moan.   
"Remind me not to fight you again," he groaned, and he rubbed at his face before turning to me. "See? I told ya that   
you could do it," he said gently, and he pulled me into a bear hug.  
Below, sparks flew like fireworks as the web crashed and teetered into electronic oblivion.  
  
  
Logan watched in awe as the two embraced amid the catastrophic destruction. One side of the great web slid slowly   
and magnificently through a wall, raising dust and rubble. He could hardly believe his ears, having heard the entire   
exchange. This was Creed. This was the soulless, motherless animal who destroyed everything he touched, who was   
responsible for or involved in almost every tragedy in Logan's life. And he had saved his son from repeating the   
mistakes he had made, from duplicating the life he had led, because he loved him. Logan hadn't thought he was   
capable of the emotion.   
"Wolverine!" shouted Spiderman, swinging for the hole in the wall they had entered through. "The whole thing's   
going to crash! Get the hell out of here!"  
Logan shook himself out of his reverie, and squinted at the hole, waving away the clinging, misty dust. Storm was   
ushering Kitty and Deadpool through, looking worriedly back up at Toby and Creed, then over to where Cable   
battled with guards incoherent with fright. He gritted his teeth. "No fuckin' way I'm lettin' them do all the work," he   
muttered. Or letting Creed get all the glory, his traitorous conscience added, as he swung up onto a fallen scaffold   
ramp, which leaned precariously on a junction of sagging, fizzing wires. He grunted as he leapt over them, landing   
on another, teetering ramp which led roughly towards the pair. "Tiger! Creed!" he roared. "Are we gonna waste that   
bastard in the glass bubble before this whole fuckin' place comes down or what?"  
Toby's head snapped up, and he met his father's eyes. "Come on."  
"You got it under control?" Sabretooth asked warily.  
Toby gave him a strange half-grin. "It's gone. I can't even feel it anymore."  
Creed matched the grin. "Then let's go!" He grabbed hold of a loose cable and swung over the precipitous drop to   
land on the glass dome, before throwing the cable back to Toby. Logan rushed up behind the younger X-Man,   
panting.  
"You okay, kiddo?" he asked.  
"Apart from dying for a smoke, I've never been better in my life. Grab hold." Toby handed the end of the cable to   
Logan, before grabbing hold of a section a little further up and pushing off with his powerful leg muscles. He   
dropped to one side of the milky glass booth, and Logan fell to a crouch beside Creed.   
"Show off yer hardware, runt," said Sabretooth. But strangely, he said it with no rancor, even with a humorous gruff   
tolerance. Logan grinned at him. Snikt! And he traced a hole lightly on the glass, before standing and stepping on it.   
It fell through with a clatter.  
Toby dropped through first. The dome was very white inside, with keyboards and panels blinking on and off in   
warning. He could smell a human presence, but not see them, and he silently stalked forward a little as Creed   
dropped behind him, then Logan.   
"I can smell someone," growled Logan, his bare claws glinting.  
"Do tell," grinned Sabretooth. "Come out, come out, wherever you are…"  
"You mean what you said up there?" asked Logan after a cautious silence.  
Creed scowled. "'Course I fuckin' did. Every word."  
"Amazing." Logan lifted an eyebrow, before shaking his head and continuing to search the dome.  
"Here," gestured Toby. "The scent gets stronger this way."  
Creed turned to follow him, but was abruptly shot by some sort of energy weapon. "Dad!" shouted Toby, before he   
span for the hidden attacker, growling.  
An almost insubstantial figure moved into sight. He held a smoking gun in his tangible hands, and his Asian face was   
smirking. "Shaw," spat Logan. "Shinobi Shaw. What's the Hand's head honcho doin' runnin' a slave auction?"  
Shinobi shrugged. "Circumstances," he answered in a heavily accented voice. "And money, of course. A lot of   
money. And I had the help of a very, very cooperative installation. I believe you've worked with them?"  
Sabretooth coughed, pushing himself up onto his hands. "Andre…" he rasped. Logan's eyes widened.  
"You hooked up with Department H?" he hissed, fury emanating from him in waves.   
Shinobi shrugged elegantly. "Serendipity. The remnants of the Hellfire Club's Inner Circle suggested such a move to   
be somewhat profitable, and also likely to bring about your downfall. They were fairly insistent about the downfall   
part."  
"Yes, I bet they were," growled Logan. "Only it didn't work, did it?"  
"I must confess, Logan-San, we were not expecting this young gentleman." Shinobi bowed to Toby, who regarded   
him with silent suspicion. "Your team has never displayed such tight coordination or taken such audacious risks. I   
must congratulate you on a perceptive young leader."  
"Congratulate away, bub, but yer going to jail."  
"Oh, I think not," said Shinobi pleasantly. "I'm intangible, Logan-San. I do wish you well trying to fit the cuffs over   
wrists you cannot grasp."  
Creed swiped a hand through Shinobi's neck, and the Asian man shivered. "I find that very disconcerting, Victor   
Creed. I'd appreciate it if you didn't try such useless stunts."  
Toby blinked suddenly, then his lips drew back in a snarl. He lunged forwards, and his claws dug into the backs of   
Shinobi's tangible hands, which dropped the gun he had shot Creed with. Shinobi howled, his concentration   
wavering, and a foot became tangible, as did his head. "It's working!" shouted Logan. Toby's snarl rose to a growl   
as he twisted his claws sharply inside the flesh of Shinobi's palms, and the Japanese mutant screamed, his legs, hips,   
chest, shoulders and neck becoming tangible, mottling over his body.   
"Now!" shouted Toby, his claws pinned. Logan took a deep breath, grinning ferociously, and sheared off Shinobi's   
head, while Creed plunged a taloned hand into his chest and twisted it, stopping his heart. Toby let the hands fall   
limply from his claws, and Shinobi Shaw, scion of the Hand and the Hellfire Club, slid slowly from Creed's deadly   
grip to land with a splatter on the shaking floor. His head rolled to Logan's foot, staring blankly at nothing.  
For a moment, the three men were silent. Then a crack in the milky glass told them that the entire structure was   
collapsing, and they shouted in unison, racing to the hole. A metallic spire crashed through the floor and punctured   
the roof, and glass shattered everywhere, covering them in thousands of cuts, before the sky came falling down.  
  
  
I should have been a pair of ragged claws  
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas  
  
"I told you, I can't feel them," said Cable angrily, shaking his silver head. The compound had collapsed in on itself   
just after they had thrown themselves out of the entrance. Kitty turned away from him, burying her head in her   
hands. Sarah hunted through the rubble as though possessed.   
"Jean? You can, can't you?" asked Rogue anxiously. Bright tears stood out in her eyes, and she seemed to be trying   
to hold them back. Jean hesitated, before shaking her head. Remy put an arm around her, and she leaned against his   
chest, her body shaking with repressed sobs.   
"Who're you lookin' for?" asked Creed, stumbling towards them from behind. His face and chest were a scalded,   
bloody mess, but somewhere under there he was grinning.   
"Sabretooth!" gasped Storm.  
"Where's Toby?" demanded Rogue.  
"And Logan," added Kitty, her fists clenching and unclenching slightly.  
Creed winced as a particularly deep gash across his ribcage drew closed. "Well, tiger did his singing thing – you   
know, decreased gravity around us – so that we stayed in the same place while everythin' else fell down. He got   
knocked against some debris, so I had to drag both him an' the runt outta there." He grinned again, gesturing over to   
what had been the telecommunications web-hall. "They're both out like a light, over that way. S' prob'ly why yer   
telepaths can't find 'em."  
Sarah gave a whoop and sped over the heaps of dust and mortar, and Rogue flew straight as an arrow not far behind.   
Every face was marked with relief – the ordeal was over, and everyone was alive. Betsy adjusted the bandage   
covering one side of her face, and cautiously asked Creed, "So who was the coordinator of the slave auctions?"  
Creed scowled reflexively, and Betsy involuntarily drew back. He laughed. "Ain't gonna hurt ya, girl. Truce ain't   
over yet. The bozo in that glass dome was a Japanese guy. The runt called him Shinobi Shaw – he could make   
himself intangible. Managed to catch me a beauty with a plasma rifle across my shoulders. Anyway, you remember   
the guy I thought was Andre?" He looked at Cable with clearing yellow eyes, and Nathan nodded. "It probably was. I   
thought Fox cancelled him years ago, but maybe not." He shrugged. "Either way, he's dead now. Shaw had allied   
himself with a rogue experimental government project called Department H, the directors of Weapon X. That kinda   
got me an' the runt too mad to think straight." He scratched his head ruefully. "That fuckin' place ain't ever gonna   
die, not while we're still alive. Anyway, Toby was the only one with a clear head, so he runs his claws through   
Shaw's hands, which had to be solid cos of the gun. And that sorta break Shaw's concentration, so he turns solid all   
over the place, an' so the runt chops off his head, an' I stop his heart. End o' saga."  
Storm released a slow breath. "Shinobi Shaw. I had no idea he was still operating."  
Betsy scowled. "I thought Warren and I dealt with him a long time ago, him and his Hellfire Club."  
Rogue flew back, carrying Toby and Logan carefully, their arms thrown over her shoulders and their feet dangling   
precariously. "Right where he said they'd be," she reported, before gently lowering them to the ground. Toby   
groaned, and those who were watching him saw Sabretooth twitch involuntarily.   
"He's okay?" he asked, a little threateningly.  
"He'll be fine, sugah," reassured Rogue.   
"How about Logan?" demanded Kitty, and Rogue shrugged.   
"He's survived worse, ain't he? Anyways, I ain't no doctor." This sobered most of the assembled, as they recalled   
Hank's shattered knees, and the rest of their fallen compatriots. Toby groaned again, and pushed himself up onto one   
hand.   
"Tiger?" said Creed immediately.  
"I'll be fine, Dad…" he coughed a little before hauling himself to his feet, swaying a little. "…Just need to sing this   
away. Got some internal bleeding, I think…"  
"Oh well, look on the bright side. It ain't a claw through the head," said Creed dryly, and Toby laughed weakly.   
"True. Did everyone… get out safe?"  
"Well, not exactly safe, as such," said Jean with a small, sad smile. "But no-one was left in there. We're all alive."  
"Thank… fuck." Toby peered blearily with blood-filled blue eyes. "Now, is there anywhere I can curl up an' sleep   
for a gazillion years?"  
Cable caught him just before he fell. "Oath, man, I've never seen you in this state," he mused aloud. Creed snorted.  
"Internal bleedin' ain't fun. If he's ruptured a lung, or his stomach, could be a few minutes before he's in any state to   
move."  
"So glad we've got expert information," returned Cable. "So what do we do?"  
Creed shrugged. "We wait. Ah, look, the runt's wakin' up."  
Sure enough, Logan rolled over with a grunt, and his eyes fluttered open behind his absolutely destroyed mask.   
"What the hell…" he muttered, before one hand raised to his head, and he growled disconsolately.   
"Not much of a morning person, is he?" murmured Spidey.  
"Not much of a person," quipped Deadpool, and the Widow sighed.  
"Please, don't start that again," she begged.  
"Logan? Are you okay?" asked Kitty anxiously.   
"I'm okay, girl, but I really musta hit my head good." He winced, and then sat up carefully. "Takes a fair whack on   
the skull to put me under." Then he pushed back the tattered mask, and scratched at his sideburns. "Anyone gotta   
smoke?" he asked plaintively.  
"I fervently second that," said Toby unsteadily. The colour was better in his face, but he was still leaning fairly   
heavily on Cable. Nathan's expression was a little pained.  
"Did you know, you weigh a flonqing ton?" he hissed.  
"No I don't… that's Hank…" mumbled Toby, while Cable rolled his eyes in exasperation.   
"Someone get me a cigarette," said Logan, a half-beat from plaintive. Creed raised his eyebrows at him. "What?"   
Logan snapped,  
"Did I say anything? Here. Let me take him," he added to Cable, who was starting to look murderous. Nathan   
carefully shifted the younger mutant's weight so that he was leaning against his father's back while he healed. "Best   
idea to keep him standing, 'specially if it's his lungs."  
"Please, you can keep the details," said Spiderman, sounding a little green.  
"Oath," breathed Nathan, stretching his arms. Toby blinked at him, his eyes focusing.  
"Dad?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Why is Cable doing the Macarena?"  
  
  
Hank's knees are healed. It took some doing, and I sang myself hoarse after two and a half hours, but he's better than   
ever. He says I even got rid of those early aging aches and pains for him. Of course, he used longer words.  
Betsy's face is back to normal too. I gave her my word after all, and so I fixed it going home on the Blackbird. The   
only difference is a slight puckering around the red tattoo from the Crimson Dawn, and a new recognition of her own   
mortality. Warren's wing will need some time to re-grow feathers, but it doesn't need a sling or anything.   
Bobby still suffers from some shocking nightmares, but his powers have jumped up a notch. I think it came from my   
attempts to liquefy and remold the internal bleeding within his ice form. He can now transform into gaseous or liquid   
state, and that frightens him senseless, I think. Still, it's astonishing to watch.  
Jubilee is fine, can't even remember being brainwashed. She thought she had fallen asleep in her cell – so her   
surprise was hilarious when she realized she'd missed all the action. She ended up slapping me continuously when   
she heard the whole story. Jeesh.  
Kurt is not a very happy fuzzy-elf. Sometimes you forget how dangerous he can be, because he's usually so serene   
and pious. Now, he's got more scars under that thin fur and more insults than Logan in a mood. But he'll calm down   
– as soon as he's indulged in some gratuitous property damage.  
Scott should be okay. Hank and I worked in tandem, doctoring wounds and then closing them. He says Scotty will   
have a few more scars, but if not for me he'd have been dead eight hours ago. Strange to think that the team can be   
grateful to me. I mean, was it forty nine hours ago that I was still a dangerous loose cannon, someone who was   
expected to turn on my teammates at any moment? And now I'm flavour of the month. Bizarre.  
Logan doesn't quite know what to say to me.  
My father disappeared into the scrubby forestland surrounding the collapsed compound just before we took off.   
Storm looked like she wanted to say something to him, but he just winked at me and loped off into the clinging   
greenery. I could have sworn, as we lifted off, that I could see his yellow eyes watching me through the plas-glass   
window from under a shrub. Gambit put a hand on my shoulder, and gave me that half-grin.  
"'M sorry, pup," he said gently. "Y' ain't him. I know dat now."  
I let out a shuddering breath. "And it's thanks to him that I'll never go the same way."  
Remy was silent for a pause. "Y' don't know what t' make of it, do y'?"  
"Yes, actually. I know exactly what to make of it." The eyes were tiny little yellow sparks in a sea of grey-green.   
"He's my dad, and he's proud of me. I'm his son, and I forgive him. I might try and rip him up on occasion, just for   
old times' sake, but I'll never actually try to kill him."  
"Mon dieu," said Remy, with a choked laugh in his tone. "Dat's one fucked up family situation y' got there."  
"At least I'm not a Summers," I said dryly, but Remy shrugged.  
"Who can tell? No-one knows who y' ma was, do they?"  
I stared at him for a moment, before beginning to laugh.  
The berserker rage is gone. The iron control I developed from the age of fourteen is now directionless, flapping   
uselessly in my subconscious like a wet rag. He dissolved it, through his own example, and I don't have to hate him   
any more. I have nothing to hold back any more. I don't need to be afraid of my emotions any more.   
I don't need to hold onto the transgressions of the past any more.  
All I need now to make my life complete would be a goddamned cigarette.  
  
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.  
  
I do not think that they will sing to me.  
  
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves  
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back  
When the wind blows the water white and black.  
  
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea  
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown  
Till human voices call us, and we drown.  
  
~Fin~  
  
AN: The poem used throughout this story is T. S. Eliot's Love Song of Alfred J. Prufrock. Very, very trippy stuff. 


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